


Cruel To Be Kind - Reboot!

by mugglerock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugglerock/pseuds/mugglerock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has become a bit of a bastard.  Hermione has become a bit narcissistic.  And Ron has finally come to terms with the fact that he is in love with Hermione.  Unfortunately for all of them, she refuses to date until Harry does.  10 Things I Hate About You: Hogwarts Style!</p><p>Includes a conniving puppet master Gryffindor, hair-brained schemes, a meddling professor, muggle music, a Shakespearean play, a little humiliation, and a lot of snark!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reboot/rewrite of a fanfiction I had written over 10 years ago. I'm not sure why I felt this overwhelming desire to fix this, but I'm rather glad I did. The story has been revised to edit a lot of the errors that there were in the original. Now the story includes consistent tense, better plot development, perspective changes that flow better, and about 20,000 more words. I also edited the non canon compliant errors (like the muggle studies professor's name) to be accurate post the release of DH, but this is not canon compliant from 6th year on.
> 
> This is un-beta'd, but I did spend a lot of time rewriting and editing this, so I am hoping the errors are minimal, but please feel free to let me know if you catch any. Warnings include: blatant thievery of the plot (and some of the dialogue) from the film 10 Things I Hate About You (i.e. The Taming of the Shrew), a very lazy attempt at writing an Irish brogue in dialogue, and swearing.

The Savior of the Wizarding World had become a bit of a bastard. Years of being the target of the most powerful and evil wizard since Grindelwald combined with the death of his godfather had led to the death of his dream for a hopeful future. This had made Harry Potter bitter, resentful, and fed up with trying to play the nice guy. 

Two weeks into term at Hogwarts Harry was speed walking to Defense Against the Dark Arts in a vain attempt to not be late and suffer the wrath of Professor Snape. As he turned a corner he collided with a young Hufflepuff, possibly first or second year. Harry swore as all of the books and scrolls he was carrying tumbled haphazardly to the ground. He turned to the clumsy child and practically hissed, “Perhaps you could, at least, TRY to attempt walking to class without your head up your arse?”

The young boy stuttered an apology as he clutched his book to his chest. His eyes shimmered and his lip trembled before he darted off, presumably somewhere devoid of classmates to witness him cry. Harry aggressively picked up his things and huffed in contempt at the scene before continuing on to class.  
~  
Harry had decided that his sixth year at Hogwarts was not going to be like his fifth. Now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag with Voldemort, he was safe from Ministry witches with a penchant for sadism. He was sick of everyone coddling him like a child over the death of Sirius or worse yet, all of the adoration from idiotic strangers blindly worshipping him because of a fluke that happened when he was a baby. Harry was not going to do what everyone else wanted, or expected of him anymore, especially if certain people he was supposed to trust couldn’t even bother to tell him the whole truth about his life.

He had made it abundantly clear that he was not going to be taking shit from anyone else, ever again after what had become known as “the incident” on the Hogwarts express. Shortly after they had boarded the train, Colin Creevy stopped at the door of the compartment where Harry and Luna were sitting. As per his norm the younger Gryffindor got excited and pulled his camera out to take a picture of Harry. Harry slammed the book he was holding down on his seat, got up, and stalked towards Colin, who stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against the side of the train. 

The anger in Harry’s eyes caused Colin to tremble in fear and the fifth year held his camera protectively against his chest as he barely stammered out a meek, “S… Sorry…”

Amidst all of the witches and wizards shuffling throughout the train still trying to find a compartment, Harry snatched the camera out of Colin’s hands and smashed it against the side of the train, right next to the trembling boy’s head. There were audible gasps from several students, while the majority of the onlookers were stunned to silence. Harry ignored all of the gaping stares and stared pointedly at Colin.

“Stop taking my bloody photo, otherwise, next time; that,” He pointed at the shattered pieces of Colin’s camera strewn along the floor, “Will be your face.” Harry had hissed loud enough to be heard by the nearby onlookers, but low enough to indicate just how serious he was. 

After basically treating anyone he didn’t explicitly trust or like in the same manner as he did Colin if they approached him, the only peers of Harry’s who weren’t frightened of or disgusted by him were Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Hermione. It wasn’t so much that Harry wanted everyone to hate him. He was just fed up with being lied to, with losing people he cared about because certain busy body wizards didn’t think he was old enough to understand what was going on with him. If people couldn’t trust him, he was going to extend them the same courtesy. He could not be bothered to care what people thought of him. A rebellious streak stemmed from all of the feelings of anger. Harry Potter was no longer the Golden Boy that he had been perceived as in the past.

~

Harry wasn’t the only person to have changed over the course of their time off. Everyone had changed in some minute way over the summer holiday. The two most noticeable changes were Harry’s emotional one and Hermione’s physical one.

Hermione had grown into her body. She was about Harry’s height now; her face had matured, the little bit of baby fat that had still been visible in her cheeks a few months prior was now nonexistent; giving her face a slender and adult beauty. Seemingly fed up with the frizzy mess that was on top of her head, she had cut her hair into a soft A-line bob; a little bit longer than shoulder length. She had also added some high lights and these endeavors had somehow tamed the mane. In her physical journey, Hermione had discovered the pleasures of makeup and flattering muggle clothing. 

What had been more noticeable than Hermione’s physical change, had been her personality change. Despite her upbringing and rather mature brain, she had become narcissistic. A summer filled with boys, and quite often men, fawning over her, offering to buy her drinks or dinner, and using every compliment and pick up line known to man, had given her an ego boost to rival that of Gilderoy Lockhart. While she still remained a bookworm and held onto her personal ethics, she no longer suffered from low self-esteem.

In one summer, Harry Potter had become the least desired person in Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger had become the most. But what can one really expect from the world of teenage adolescence? Let alone, when it happens to be intermingled with the Wizarding World? And that’s where this story begins. Well, sort of…


	2. Chapter One

After a couple of years of tip-toeing around each other, Ronald Weasley had finally mustered up the courage to ask the object of his desires out. Over the summer, being stuck inside for most of it due to the severe restrictions imposed by the ministry to keep all underage wizards and witches safe, Ron was given ample time to think. After some provocation from George and Fred, he had come to the realization that he was, and had been, hopelessly in love with Hermione. He had decided he would tell her when they saw each other again at Hogwarts, but he never seemed to get an opportunity to speak to her alone. Her transformation had caused her to become one of the most sought out people at school. 

Finally, about three weeks into term during a free study period, Ron had noticed Hermione was alone while walking to the library. He jogged up to her and gently grasped her shoulder to turn her to face him.

Hermione looked a little shocked at first but then smiled warmly at the red head, “Hello, Ron.”

He smiled sheepishly back at her. He started to wring his hands, unable to hide how nervous he felt. Hermione looked at him in bemusement, the smile still on her face. She stared at him expectantly, but patiently waited for him to say whatever it was he was trying to say.

Ron let out a deep breath before finally mewling out, rather pathetically, “Uh, hey, Hermione. I, uh, I was just wondering if, maybe, perhaps you’d, uh, well, you’d like to go out with me, uh, this, this uh weekend?” Ron couldn’t quite bring himself to make eye contact with her.

Hermione’s smile went from pleased to slightly solemn. She replied kindly, “Aww, that’s really very sweet, Ronald, but I can’t…”

Ron’s shoulders slumped in defeat, he sighed before asking, “Is it something I did? Or are you just not interested?”

Hermione shook her head. “Harry,” she replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron’s lips curved into a sad smile, he looked utterly crest fallen, “Are you in love with him or something?” He wouldn’t have been surprised if she was. The three of them had been friends for six years and it was only natural to sometimes develop feelings for a close friend, hell, it had happened to him.

Hermione giggled, which looked incredibly strange on her. She was never one to giggle like an insipid girl swooning over some pseudo celebrity. She smacked Ron’s arm in mock horror, “Oh, God no! He’s practically a brother to me, you should know that!”

Ron looked a little sheepish before asking, “Then is that why you said no? Do you think of me like a brother?”

Her cheeks turned a faint hue of pink, she shrugged evasively, but her body language appeared to communicate that she did not, in fact, see Ron as a brother. Hermione finally shook her head in a silent admission.

Ron could have flown without a broomstick at the silent little affirmation that there was a possibility the feelings he had for her could be mutual. His elation was short lived when he realized that despite her potential feelings, she had still told him no. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Uh, then why don’t you want to go out with me?” 

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, “Like I said, because of Harry…”

At this Ron’s face scrunched up in confusion, “I know you probably think I’m daft, but I don’t understand what Harry has to do with it? Is he in love with you, then?”

This time there was no giggle, but rather an outright and loud bark of laughter. She shook her head emphatically, “Goodness no! Not even close. It’s just, I know this is going to sound silly, but ever since Harry had his, I don’t know what to call it, let’s just say his emotional breakthrough. Well, I feel really bad about everything he’s gone through and as long as Harry is sad and miserable, I don’t really think it is right for me to go about and have a great time. Does that make sense?”

Ron shook his head and could not stop himself from answering, “No, ‘Mione, honestly that sounds barmy…”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, her annoyance at his comment evident on her face. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m just trying to be a good friend, so as long as Harry refuses to date, or go to social events, or what have you, I refuse to do it, too. I’m just trying to be supportive!”

Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but Hermione interrupted him before he could, “I’ll start dating when Harry does…”

His jaw dropped. That could take ages, not only did his friend have absolutely no interest in dating, but with his newfound rebellious and angry disposition, he was a social pariah at Hogwarts. Ron tried to plead with her, “But, Hermione…”

“No buts, Ronald.” She waved him off with a casual air, “Besides, I’ve turned everyone else down so far for the exact same reason, how fair would it be if I were to agree to go out with you?” 

Ron was about to say something but was silenced with a small press of the girl’s lips to his cheek. She gave him one more slightly sad smile and kept walking to the library. Ron stood there for several minutes in a daze, rubbing the cheek that had just been kissed by Hermione. His day dreaming reverie was interrupted by Seamus Finnigan.

The sandy haired Irish boy trotted up behind Ron and clapped him on the shoulder, “’Ow’d it go, mate?”

Ron sighed in exasperation and shrugged Seamus’ hand off of his shoulder. “She said no, just like she has to everyone else. Your little theory was a load of bollocks,” Ron put on his best version of an Irish accent, “‘she’s always ‘ad a t’ing for ya’!’” 

Seamus rolled his eyes at his friend’s poor attempt at an Irish brogue. “I’m tellin' ya’ she 'as! What she tell ya’?”

The red head frowned, “Like I told you, she said ‘no’. Apparently it’s coz Harry refuses to have fun. I mean what a load of bollocks, right? Prevent yourself from having a good time just because your best friend has gone mental and turned into a fun-time hating pillock?”

Seamus laughed. “Yeh, perhaps 'Arry’s insanity is spreading?”

Ron let out a resigned sigh. He ruffled his hair in annoyance before continuing, “I don’t know, but if he continues to act the way he has been, he’s going to isolate everyone in the bloody world and Hermione is crazy enough to follow him! At this rate, she’ll remain a virgin for the rest of her life!”

Seamus gasped in feigned outrage, “An' we all know we can’t possibly 'av dat!” The Irish boy let out a grunt of pain when Ron’s hand collided with the back of his head. He yelped out an, “Oi!” before he started rubbing the area that had been smacked.

Ron rolled his eyes at his friend, “You deserved it, you berk.”

As though the head smacking hadn’t even happened, Seamus leaned in close to Ron and squeezed his cheek. He began talking to him as though he were a small child, “Aww, ickle Ronniekins is one 'orny wee bugger, in’ he?”

Ron’s eyes narrowed and he slapped the Irish boy’s hand away, “You’re an utter prick, you know that, right?”

Seamus laughed, “So, what? All we’ve got ter do is find someone mental enough ta’ date the Boy ‘ho’s Livid? Someone totally aff their nut?”

The two boys just stared at each other for a moment, pensively contemplating who in their school was crazy enough to want to date Harry Potter. As if a light bulb turned on inside both of their heads, Ron and Seamus shared similar evil grins as the pair of them said at the exact same time, “Luna Lovegood!”

~

“No, thank you. You boys haven’t suffered an infestation of wrackspurts, have you?” Luna asked with mild concern lacing her tone. 

Seamus was about to ask what a wrackspurt was when Ron held his hand in front of him to halt that train of thought, “Don’t ask…” Seamus nodded his understanding. Ron and Seamus had run into Luna on the way to the Great Hall for dinner and decided that fate was on their side. They were stood off to the side, so as to have a semblance of privacy for their conversation, but not really hiding that they were having a discussion with Luna.

“No wrackspurts, I promise,” Ron replied. 

Seamus nodded his agreement, despite his lack of understanding, and then interjected, “Aww, c’mon, why won’t ya’ give ‘Arry a chance?”

Luna smiled serenely at Seamus before calmly replying, “Well, for one, I told you no thank you. I was rather polite about it. And honestly, Harry is not much my type,” she sighed and stared over their heads wistfully. The boys turned to see who Luna was looking at and found her line of sight appeared to meet a portrait of a handsome young wizard. Luna shook herself from her brief trance and continued, “Not to mention, I am definitely not Harry’s type.” Luna shrugged before she walked away humming the school song. 

Ron stood there, looking utterly baffled, “What the hell do you think she meant by that?”

Seamus shrugged, “I’ve no idea, I don’t speak ‘Luna’…”

Ron let out an aggravated sigh. He threw his hands up in the air as his voice got louder, “So, that’s it. There’s no one else in this whole bloody school that would even consider looking at Harry, let alone date him!”

The Irish boy hushed his friend. “Do ya’ want every ruddy person within a mile ta’ hear ya’?” Seamus hissed. He shook his head in amusement before adding, “Yer such a drama witch.”

Ron scowled, “What do you suggest then?”

Seamus appeared thoughtful as he seemingly stared at nothing. He stroked his chin like he had seen in a muggle film over the summer, pointedly ignoring the confused look Ron was giving him. The Irish boy hummed for good measure before contemplating out loud, “Well, it can’t be anyone from Gryffindor; they live wi' 'im, dat’s torture enough, not ter mention I t’ink Colin started an anti-Potter club. Ravenclaw is too goody goody; 'e’d eat a Hufflepuff alive…”

Ron shook his head in dispute of whatever it was Seamus was about to say. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

Seamus smirked in response.

Ron protested, “It cannot be someone from Slytherin!”

“They’re the only ones evil and connivin’ enough ta’ take on a job like this!”

The red head shook his head, “That cannot possibly work! Almost all of the Slytherins hate Harry, I mean, we’d probably have to bribe someone…”

Seamus’ eyes lit up, “’Ang on! Blaise Zabini!”

Ron gave his friend a pained expression, “What are you on about? Blaise fancies girls! You saw the way that git was all over Hermione at the Sorting feast!”

Seamus snapped his fingers before pointing them both at Ron in affirmation, “Exactly!”

“Damnit! I thought you said you didn’t speak ‘Luna’!”

The Irish boy laughed and squeezed his friend’s arm reassuringly, “Don’t get yer knickers in a twist. I’m bettin’ we can get ‘im ta’ talk one of his Slytherins into tryna’ date ‘Arry.”

“What’s in it for him? He’s not going to try to get someone in his house to date a half-blood without anything being in it for him!”

Seamus continued, “Like ya’ said, he’s gaggin’ for a chance at ‘Ermione, right?”

Ron nodded with hesitation and dread clearly all over his face. Before the red head could interject, Seamus continued, “We just ‘ave ta’ explain dat she won’t date ‘til ‘Arry does, so maybe his prick will lead the way ta’ get a Slytherin ta’ ‘elp ‘im …”

“I thought the whole bloody point of getting Harry a date was so Hermione would be able to go out with me!” Ron folded his arms in a petulant manner.

Seamus rolled his eyes at his friend and sighed. “We are, ya’ clot! Blaise would be a backer.”

The red head looked even more confused than he had before, “What’s that?”

“It’s like in muggle poker, yeh? Ya’ get someone with the money ta’ fund ya’ while ya’ play. We tell ‘im the idea, right? He gets someone ta’ try ta’ date ‘Arry, likely using galleons, thinkin’ he gets a crack at ‘Ermione. What he don’ know is that yer goin’ ta’ get the chance as well!”

“I don’t know…” Ron interjected, his facial expression communicating that there were red lights flashing in his mind’s eye to stop! 

Seamus shrugged him off, “We’re goin’ ta have ta’ t’ink of someone who is mental enough ta’ take our angry friend out. Someone with loose morals, someone attractive, who won’t be frightened by ‘Arry’s temper…”

“This is crazy, Seamus.”

He waved his hand dismissively, “No, it’ll work, trust me…”

Ron sighed, “No. Even if this would work, I really don’t think I could do that to Harry. There’s got to be a better way. I don’t want to bribe someone to go out with him. He’s got enough trust issues as it is, mate.”

Seamus had no response to that, he knew Ron was right. It would be a pretty horrible thing to do to even a marginal acquaintance, let alone a friend. 

~

At dinner, Ron and Seamus were determinedly ignoring each other as they waited for the rest of their friends to arrive. Despite the delay of a poorly devised plan in the entryway to the left of the Great Hall, they were still the first of their friends to arrive to dinner. When Hermione walked in, like a tracking spell Ron automatically turned his head in her direction, as though his subconscious knew where she was in any room. Very shortly after she walked in, Blaise Zabini followed. Ron’s face started to match the red in his hair as his anger and jealousy seethed from watching their interaction.

Zabini gave the brunette a smarmy smile, his arrogance cloaked by his charm. He was talking to Hermione about something, Ron couldn’t hear everything, but he did hear the tosser say, “So, this S.P.E.W. thing sounds like a marvelous idea.”

Ron sighed when he saw Hermione’s eyes light up as she replied, “I’m so glad you think so! I figure, where we need to start, to stop house elf oppression, has to be the old pureblood families. That’s where the slavery initially began.”

Ron got up and moved near the end of the table in order to eavesdrop with more subtlety. He rolled his eyes when he saw Blaise nod empathetically before continuing his conversation with Hermione, “I know. I never truly realized the kind of hell we put those poor creatures through, but talking to you has been enlightening. I would really like to discuss this further. What are you doing this Friday? And if that won’t work, perhaps on Saturday, I would be honored to escort you to Hogsmeade and we could discuss more of this over lunch?”

Before Hermione could respond to the Slytherin’s invitation, Pansy Parkinson walked in and slammed into the brunette. She hissed as she walked past them, “Stupid mudblood.”

The hurt those words caused showed plainly on Hermione’s face. She appeared to be somewhere between absolutely livid and on the verge of tears. Ron started to get up to give Parkinson an earful. His chivalry was rudely interrupted when, to everyone in the Great Hall’s surprise, Zabini was the one to interject, 

“Piss off, Parkinson. You’re letting your jealousy show, you beast. Now, run along and perhaps Malfoy will drop some crumbs of affection for you to nibble upon.”

Parkinson scowled at the black boy, but did not retaliate verbally. She let out an indignant huff before angrily stomping over to the Slytherin table to sit down next to Millicent Bulstrode. 

Ron continued his eavesdropping as he watched the pair of them from his peripheral vision. Zabini rubbed her arm in a soothing manner and said, “So sorry about that, some people have no class.” 

The brunette smiled at the boy and nodded, “You know, you would think that after five years in the same school as Malfoy, I’d get used to being called that name by now.”

Zabini sighed, “It still doesn’t make it any less cruel. In fact, I’m apologizing on behalf of my entire brethren. When uncouth miscreants like the Malfoys do things like that, all it does is make the rest of us pureblood Slytherins look bad, as though we are all so prejudiced.” He bowed respectfully before continuing, “I apologize for the cruel words certain purebloods have called you.”

Ron bristled as he watched Hermione blush and smile at the git. He could not believe she was falling for his shit. He could feel his face heat up in anger as he watched the Slytherin grab her hand and kiss it, like they were at some ancient pureblood ball.

Zabini flashed Hermione a charming smile and asked again, “So, how about that Hogsmeade trip on Saturday?”

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. Ron silently whooped at that. He tried to remain calm as he continued to listen to their conversation. She replied, “I’m very flattered, Blaise, but I’m not dating right now. I still would love to talk to you more though about S.P.E.W.! Maybe we could study together sometime?”

Ron had to refrain from making an over exaggerated gag noise to the false sincerity the prat spewed out, “I would enjoy that very much.”

Hermione smiled sweetly at him and headed towards the Gryffindor table. Ron caught the frustrated look Zabini gave her retreating back, the rude gesture he made to the Slytherin table, and the pat on the back he gave Pansy Parkinson while handing her an envelope and mouthing the word, ‘Thanks’. Ron was utterly livid. He stomped back to his seat next to Seamus. As he angrily picked up a fork, he hissed at the Irish boy, “I’ve changed my mind, that prick isn’t playing nice, neither should we.”

Seamus grinned triumphantly, “Atta boy.”

~

The next day, Seamus approached Zabini in the hallway on the way to Charms and pulled him into an abandoned classroom before anyone could take notice.

He shook Seamus’ hands from his robes and started to flatten out any possible creases. He stared at the Gryffindor in disgust, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The Irish boy smirked, “I’ve got a proposition for ya’…”


	3. Chapter Two

Blaise gave Finnigan a skeptic look. He eyed the Gryffindor up and down, trying to mentally figure out what the Irish boy’s angle was. “So, what you’re saying is, I should pay someone to take Potter out on a date?”

Finnigan shrugged and replied with a curt, “Basically…”

Blaise scoffed. “You’re mental!”

“No, actually, I’m brilliant, but that’s beside the point. Ya’ want ta’ boff ‘Ermione. She won’t even date as long as ‘Arry won’t, let alone t’ink of shagging anyone. Ya’ want a chance at ‘er? Ya’ ‘ave to get ‘im someone, but in case ya’ haven’t noticed, ‘Arry’s become a bit of a bastard. That means he’d be perfect for a Slytherin!”

The Slytherin eyed him warily, but his eyebrows were quirked in a silent admonition of disbelief. He shook his head and let out another scoff. “Like I said, you’re mental.”

The Irish boy rolled his eyes before continuing with his point, “Well, aside from the whole, yer house ‘ating him with a passion of a t’ousand suns. The way I see it, a Slytherin would be the only one up for dat kind a challenge. And I mean, if it works, when ‘Ermione sees ‘im being all social like, she’ll want ta’ join right in!”

Blaise let out an exasperated sigh, “Again, I reiterate, you’re absolutely mental. But I suppose I have to give you credit for being rather devious for a Gryffindor. Did you have a particular Slytherin in mind?”

Assuming that Blaise had basically agreed to the arrangement, Seamus made to leave. He grabbed the handle of the old wooden door and replied, “No, I’ll leave dat up to ya’.” 

“Wait a minute, what’s in it for you? How does me getting one of my housemates to agree to go out with Potter do anything for you?”

The Gryffindor gave him an innocent smile, “Simply the gratification of seeing two of me closest friends find happiness.”

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. “Bollocks, you’re gunning for something. Why else would you try to get your rival house to take the ‘Chosen One’ out on a date?”

Finnigan chuckled and shrugged. “Alright, the t’ing is one of these days I might need a favor. Nothin’ ta’ big, like, perhaps a good word with one of the pureblood birds?”

Blaise nodded at the boy approvingly, “We’ve all got the same thing on our minds, I see. Well, I am not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Finnigan extended his hand to Blaise and asked, “Does dat mean we’ve got a deal?” 

The Slytherin looked at the proffered hand as though it might bite him. He gave the Irish boy a wary look before finally accepting the handshake. “We’ve got a deal.”

“Great!” He exclaimed as he clapped his hands. 

He left Blaise to the seclusion of the abandoned classroom. The Slytherin smiled sinisterly, lost in thought over the glory of being the first one to boff the hottest girl in Scotland. 

~

“What are we doing again?” Pansy asked, unable to mask the in frustration in her tone. She watched curiously as Millicent and Gregory were setting up a table and chairs in a private room off to the side of the Slytherin common room. 

Blaise let out an irritated sigh, “I already told you, we’re conducting interviews for candidates to be given the opportunity of a lifetime.” 

Pansy clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Yeh, I got that bit. I was hoping you’d be willing to let me know what that opportunity might be? Hell, I might even want a shot at it!”

“Trust me, you don’t. Besides, the candidates I’m searching for need to be a certain caliber that you just do not meet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Pansy glared at Blaise.

He waved his hand dismissively, “I’ll let you know later, just do as I said and let only one person in at a time.” 

Pansy grabbed the clipboard off of the table and started to walk towards the door in order to start allowing candidates in to the room. Blaise called to her turned back while shuffling the papers in front of him, “DO make sure it’s only the girls on the list, alright?”

Pansy muttered under her breath, “Yeh, yeh, yeh…”

Pansy opened the door to a line of about 30 Slytherin girls chatting animatedly about what the possible opportunity could be. She looked down at the list on her clipboard and called out without any enthusiasm, “Alright, is Daphne Greengrass here?”

The fair skinned girl gave the girls around her an arrogant smile and approached Pansy. The dark haired girl rolled her eyes and sneered as she opened the door for Daphne.

~

After the last girl on the list left the room in a fit of very un-Slytherin-like guffaws, like all the others girls had, Pansy walked back in. She smirked at the sight that met her. Blaise was sitting at the table, his head in his hands. “Were you telling jokes or something?”

He sighed, “I…” and before he could finish his sentence he was silenced by the sound of the door slamming open.

Draco Malfoy burst through the door looking slightly frantic. “Here you are, Pans. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You have my Potions notes and I have to finish that essay for Slughorn…” He stopped mid-sentence and surveyed the room, his perfect eyebrows quirked in curiosity. It wasn’t every day he walked in on his best friend holding a clipboard next to Blaise Zabini, apparently sulking at a table. “Is there something you want to tell me? What do the muggles call it? Have you decided to bat for the other team now?”

Pansy looked positively green at the thought. She protested, “No, you prat. Besides, if I were to suddenly go for blokes, why the fuck would I go for Zabini?”

Draco nodded his acquiescence, his mouth quirked to silently indicate he agreed that she was making sense. “Good point. So then, what is going on in here?”

She shrugged, “I haven’t a clue, I was just about to find out when some poncy prat came barging in, whinging about his ruddy Potions notes.”

Draco made a rude hand gesture at her and turned to the sullen boy glaring at him. “Alright, Zabini, let’s hear it…”

Blaise sighed, “Well, it’s not like it’s going to work out now, I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. Basically, I asked every suitable, non-ugly, heterosexual Slytherin girl if she would be willing to date Harry Potter for a reasonable price.”

Pansy stared at the boy as if he’d grown another head, whereas Draco doubled over in laughter. Draco was wiping mirth from his eyes as he tried to compose himself. 

Blaise let out an aggravated sigh and yelled, “See! That’s the exact same reaction I had from every single ONE of those insipid tarts!”

After a few deep breaths, Draco was able to contain his laughter. He approached Blaise and put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why, in the name of Merlin, would you ask a group of self-respecting Slytherin girls if they’d not only date a Gryffindor, but the half-blood savior of the Wizarding World?”

The black boy started rubbing his temples, mentally willing away the headache the last forty-five minutes had given him. He kept his head down as he replied, “Because I’ll get a chance to shag his mudblood friend if he starts dating.”

Draco scoffed, “You really do think with your prick. I guess that would explain why your brain’s so small…”

Blaise shoved all of the papers off of the table and yelled, “Fuck off, Malfoy!”

The blond smirked in triumph. He moved to sit down in an interview chair and folded his hands in his lap. “There’s no need to have an eppy. So, what were you going to offer this lucky lady, you know, other than a chance at Potter?”

Blaise shrugged, “It never really got that far. I don’t know, maybe 30 Galleons?”

Pansy let out a strangled gasp that sounded almost like she was choking on her own saliva, “Merlin’s beard! What do you take all of us for? Weasleys?”

“What would you suggest then?” Blaise asked earnestly with only a hint of sarcasm.

Draco started to drum his fingers against the table to the beat of his thoughts racing through his head. His lips quirked up in a sly smile, a telling sign of the nefarious plot that had come to his mind. “I’ll do it. For 100 Galleons.”

“What?! You’ve gone barmy, Malfoy. No one on this planet hates Potter more than you do! Well, no one besides the Dark Lord. Not to mention we have no idea if he’s a poof! Besides, why would you need the money?”

“First off; gay or straight, no one can resist a Malfoy…”

Pansy rolled her eyes at her best friend and let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like, ‘I can.’

Draco proceeded to ignore her as he continued, “Secondly; what can I say? I like a challenge. And thirdly, it’s none of your business why I want the money. So, what do you say? Have we got ourselves a deal?” At this, Draco stood and extended his hand out to the still seated Slytherin.

Blaise hesitated, having heard that phrase far too many times in the past few hours. He let out a sigh of acquiescence and muttered, “Fine, deal.”

The blond smirked victoriously as Blaise handed him the money. As Draco started to march out of the room, the black boy called out after him, “If you don’t succeed, you have to pay me back double!”

Draco waved Blaise off dismissively as he left.

~

Draco had decided the best time to catch Potter would be after Quidditch practice. That evening, he snuck out to the pitch and watched intently from the ground as the Gryffindor Quidditch team flew in circled laps as some sort of unity exercise before ending their practice. They all landed gracefully and congratulated each other on a great practice. Draco watched with curiosity as Potter was the only one to not participate in any of the complimentary team talk. As the rest of Potter’s teammates headed toward the locker rooms, he stayed behind to put away all of their equipment. 

That’s when Draco noticed that every single one of the Gryffindors had left their brooms on the pitch, instead of taking them with them. He assumed that they had been practicing with school brooms at first, but as he got a closer look he noticed that Potter’s firebolt was among them. He started to feel a little bit of a creep as he continued to silently watch the remaining Gryffindor pick up all of the brooms and walk toward the broom shed.

Draco decided he was done being a creep and jogged to catch up to Potter’s retreating form. When he got within a few feet of the Gryffindor he called out, “Nice flying, Potter.”

The bespectacled boy scoffed but did not stop or even slow down his pace. Without looking back he asked, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco managed to get in front of Potter and halted his walking, “I only ask to have but a minute of your time.”

Potter rolled his eyes, but stopped walking as opposed to stepping around the Slytherin attempting to block his path. He looked expectantly at Draco and when the blond did not attempt to explain, he ground out an agitated, “Go on, then…”

Draco chewed his lip for a couple of seconds and couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the better of him, “What are you doing with all of those brooms?”

Potter let out an aggravated sigh. “You came all the way out to the pitch to ask me about brooms?”

“No, you pillock…”

The Gryffindor interrupted him in a clipped tone, “Don’t worry, Malfoy. None of these are the Slytherin teams’ brooms. And to answer your question, I’m putting them away.” 

He rolled his eyes at the feigned ignorance. “Yes, I can see that, but why are you putting your teammates’ brooms away? Are you all too lazy to take them to your rooms or something?”

Potter stared at him, a contemplative and confused look that implied he was silently wondering whether or not they were actually having this pathetic conversation. “That is none of your business, now if you’re quite finished?”

Draco shook his head, “No, actually. I came to see if you wanted a bit of a chat.” He ignored the dumbfounded look Potter was giving him and continued, “Ummm, how are you doing?”

Potter scoffed as he stared at the blond, utter bewilderment etched into his features. “Well, I’m sweaty, tired, and achy from an incompetent beater and his inability to hold onto his bat, but other than that? Absolutely fantastic and yourself?”

Draco gave him his best and most charming smile, “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

They stared at each other and shared an uncomfortable silence for about a minute before Potter shrugged, “Well, this has been, uh, well, this has honestly been quite strange…” He continued with his original endeavor and stepped around Draco to approach the broom shed. After he put all of the brooms away, he turned around and started walking towards the locker rooms.

Draco stood still and watched as Potter retreated further from him. Before the Gryffindor reached the locker rooms he called out to his retreating back, “Hogsmeade on Saturday?”

He laughed and kept walking, throwing an amused look to the blond over his shoulder. “Oh, definitely, sure, absolutely.”

Draco ran to catch up to him and when he met his pace he continued, “What? Do you already have plans?”

Potter stopped and turned to face Draco, the look on his face incredulous, “Have you gone mental or something, Malfoy?”

Draco scoffed indignantly, “I can see how someone asking you out can be considered an act of insanity, but I assure you, I am simply expressing that I find you attractive and thus, believe we should go out on a date.”

The Gryffindor appeared utterly dumbfounded. He was stunned to silence and after a couple of minutes seemed to gather himself. Potter shook his head in disbelief, turned his back to the Slytherin, and kept walking. He called out without turning back, “Tell me, Malfoy. What color are my eyes?”

Draco’s cocky demeanor faltered for a moment as he tried to remember what the speccy git’s eye color was. He thought back to second year and racked his brain for the song of the horrid singing valentine the littlest Weasley had sent Potter. He couldn’t help but smirk victoriously as he called back, “Green.”

Potter stopped and turned back around. He proceeded to walk steadily back to where Draco was standing. “Good on ya! You guessed the correct answer out of the, what? Five possible eye colors? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m sweaty and in dire need of a shower. If you are finished trying to prove something to yourself, I’ll be off.”

The Slytherin was unable to think of a witty retort. In the six years he had tormented Potter, he had never been met with such sarcastic vitriol from the Gryffindor. As Potter disappeared into the locker rooms, Draco sighed in defeat; walking the opposite direction the other boy was headed. He was going to have to use an entirely different tactic.

~

Seamus left the stands after spending the last 40 minutes watching Harry viciously berate the rest of his team, which had now become the standard for the Gryffindor team Quidditch practice. Ron had asked him to meet after practice to discuss what had now become “the plan” in their minds. Seamus thought it would be fun to watch his dorm mates practice while he waited; how wrong he was! As he reached the bottom of the steps, a hand darted out and yanked him backwards.

“Did you see that?!” Ron hissed.

Seamus shoved the red head away from him, obviously a little shaken from being snuck up on. He grasped at his heart for good measure before hissing back in an angry whisper, “Fuck! Ya’ tryin’ ta’ give me a stroke? What’s got yer knickers in a bunch?”

Ron pointed to the area through the tapestries where he had been watching the after Quidditch practice show. He had noticed Malfoy while he was flying the laps Harry had barked at them all to do. While the rest of the team went to the lockers, he snuck behind one of the tapestries to watch what he assumed might be a fight. He couldn’t abandon his friend in case they started dueling. Ron watched in stunned silence as he saw Draco Malfoy, the dark bloody prince, ask out the Chosen One. He had to repress his laughter when Harry brutally rebuffed him. 

He pointed at the opening of the tapestry for Seamus to look and see Malfoy walk away. “I think Malfoy just asked Harry out!”

Seamus pushed Ron aside to get a better look through the opening, “What?”

Ron could not keep the anger out of his voice as he spat, “I thought you said you’d handled it?!”

The Irish boy started laughing. That was not the response Ron was expecting, his face slowly coloring to match his hair as his anger grew. He grabbed Seamus by the front of his school shirt and pulled him forward. “What’s so bloody funny?!” 

Seamus started to choke a little in his effort to control his laughter. He pried Ron’s hands from his collar and composed himself. “I told Zabini ta’ pick the lucky Slytherin. I never would ‘ave thought in a million years… He’s ruddy brilliant!”

The red head stared at his friend incredulously. “Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together is brilliant?! You’re barmier than Luna and Lockhart combined, you know that, right?”

“Ron, t’ink about it. Who is the one person at this school who is a bigger bastard than ‘Arry?”

Ron didn’t even hesitate before answering, “Malfoy.”

Seamus gave his friend a wolfish grin. “See? Brilliant!”

“Argh!” Ron cried out as he pushed Seamus aside and headed to the locker rooms to finally get the shower he so desperately needed. He was too busy muttering about idiotic Irish gits to notice the sandy haired boy had run off in the direction Malfoy had gone.


	4. Chapter Three

Seamus had run to the entrance hall after Ron disappeared into the locker rooms. He had lost track of Malfoy and went through the clock tower entrance in the hopes of catching the Slytherin coming inside. With no sign of Malfoy, Seamus went back outside and saw the blond wandering a little aimlessly on the grounds. He called out, “Malfoy!” as he went after him.

Malfoy glanced backwards to see who was calling for him and sneered when he realized who it was. The blond did not halt his now sped up pace to get away from the Gryffindor. “Bugger off, Finnigan!” 

Seamus was able to catch up to the Slytherin and grasped the blond’s arm to spin him around. “Ay! What do ya’ t’ink yer playing at?”

Malfoy scoffed as he firmly shook the hold Seamus had on him and stepped away. “Pardon me? Have you hit your head? Get away from me before I dimuendo you into an actual Leprechaun!”

Seamus scanned to make sure the blond wasn’t holding his wand, just in case he made good on his threat. He raised his hands in a hopefully placating manner, “Take it easy! I’m just trying ta’ help…”

“Help?” Malfoy snorted in derision before feigning concern as he asked, “Has Professor Snape finally started his lifelong dream of using Gryffindor brains for experimental potions?”

The Irish boy sighed in exasperation. “Merlin! Wot is it with everyone questionin’ me sanity today? I know what yer up ta’ and yer going about t’ings all wrong.”

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest, the aggravation he was feeling clear on his face. “I honestly have no idea to what you are referring.”

Seamus let out a short laugh that sounded like a sing-song bark. “Yer failed attempt at asking ‘Arry out? I happened ta’ witness dat really sad scene.

Malfoy scoffed and turned to walk away.

“I know why ya’ did it!” Seamus called out to him. 

Malfoy halted and slowly turned back around, quirking his eyebrow at the Irish boy as a silent invitation for him to explain.

“I know dat Zabini got ya’ ta’ ask ‘Arry out; I never would ‘ave dreamed in a million years dat he would ask ya’. Quite brilliant!” Seamus clapped his hands together in excitement.

Malfoy scowled at the Gryffindor. “Excuse me?”

The Irish boy ignored the rhetorical question and continued, “Anyway, yer doing t’ings all wrong, ya’ can’t just ask ‘im out. Ya’ve ‘ated each other for yonks! Ya’ can’t possibly t’ink he’s gonta’ give in ta’ yer charm and good looks. ‘Arry don’t work like that. I mean, come on, how narcissistic are ya’?”

The blond’s facial expression did not change at all as pulled his wand out, “You really aren’t too attached to your bollocks, are you, Finnigan?”

Seamus’ eyes widened in legitimate fear as he raised his hands in the air like a muggle fugitive, “Hear me out!” 

Malfoy eyed him skeptically before finally lowering his wand. He tucked his wand inside of his robes and folded his arms against his chest. “You’ve got one minute.” 

Seamus breathed a sigh of relief and continued, “’Arry has become a bit of a bastard, on purpose. He’s trynta’ get everyone ta’ stop liking him.”

“Why?” The tone of the question came out more with genuine concern.

He shrugged. “No one knows. Maybe it’s just one of those teenage angst t’ings? Now, coz of ‘ow he’s been; only a few of us Gryffindors put up with his shite. If ya’ want ta’ do this, yer going ta’ have ta’ go behind enemy lines, so ta’ speak,” Seamus grinned, “And dat’s where I come in…”

Malfoy stayed silent for a moment. He appeared to be contemplating everything he’d just been told. His demeanor changed from curious to wary, his narrowed eyes being an obvious tell. “Why are you willing to help me deceive your friend? What’s in it for you? I can understand one of us snakes pulling this shit on each other, but you lot are far too noble for such a manipulative scheme. You do realize that this could really hurt Potter, right?”

“Here’s the t’ing, Malfoy. It’s not about trynta’ deceive ‘Arry. ‘Arry’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of bloody Bournemouth and he refuses ta’ deal with it. He needs a distraction, even if it’s only temporary. He don’ need ta’ know it’s fake, he just needs ta’ go out once or twice and maybe we’ll get our old friend back.”

Malfoy appeared pensive as he took in all of what the Gryffindor had told him. After a few beats of silence he arched his brow in disbelief and asked, “So… It’s about Granger?”

Seamus laughed and shrugged, “Can’t pull anyt’ing on ya’. Weasley’s got a t’ing for ‘er.”

“So, let me get this straight, you managed to convince Blaise to get one of his housemates to take Potter out so that he could have a chance at Granger, all the while you and Weasley will be running interference and trying to get her to date him?”

The Gryffindor smiled a little sheepishly, “I guess dat’s one way ta’ look at it?”

Malfoy smirked, “Alright, I’m in.” 

~

Ron was sitting alone at the chess set in the common room when Seamus finally came back. He stood up and approached the Irish boy. He pulled him into an alcove beneath the stairs to the boy’s rooms, his fingers gripping the smaller boy’s shirt as he pressed him against the wall. “What took you so bloody long? You need to explain what is going on, NOW.”

Seamus shushed Ron when the few people lingering in the common room stared at them. They appeared torn between whether or not they were going to try to save Seamus or run away to not be witnesses to a crime. 

Seamus pushed Ron’s hand away and hissed, “Not here. Let’s talk upstairs…”

Ron growled and practically dragged the Irish boy up the stairs into their dorm room. Ron checked all of the beds to make sure they were alone and promptly placed a silencing charm on the door before he yelled, “What, the BLOODY HELL, is going on?!”

Seamus flinched at the yell and raised his hands to placate the angry red head. “If ya’ calm down I’ll tell ya’.”

“Go on, then.” Ron said, his tone laced with impatience. 

“Malfoy is the one dat Zabini convinced to date Harry.” Seamus winced in preparation of Ron’s apocalyptic fit.

“WHAT?!” 

“Ron, mate, listen ta’ me. It could work…”

Ron was trembling he was so angry, his freckles had all but disappeared into the sea of red that his complexion had taken. “It could work? It could ruddy WORK? You are officially mental! That slimey, ferrety bastard has been making our lives a living hell for the last six years! Please tell me how this could work? Even if Harry was bent, why the fuck would he go for Malfoy? I don’t want to know what Zabini had to do to get Malfoy to do this, but there’s no way, fuck no, I’m not okay with this. The pair of them hate each other and with good reason!”

Seamus smirked, “Hey, ya’ know wot they say; there’s a t’in line between love and hate…”

Ron’s anger was only magnified by the confusion the Irish boy’s comment had caused, “Who bloody says that?!”

The shorter boy shrugged, “It’s a muggle expression.”

“You are grating my last nerve, Finnigan! Again, even if this wasn’t the worst idea in the world, Harry’s not a poof so you’re…”

Seamus interrupted Ron’s diatribe with a chuckle. He walked over to Harry’s bed, lifted the mattress, and pulled out a magazine. As he handed the magazine to Ron he couldn’t stop himself from using a slightly mocking tone, “While he might be an angry prat, he’s still a teenage boy.”

Ron stared at worn out and apparently abused copy of “Witch Weekly’s: Sexiest Quidditch Players”. Ron threw the magazine onto Harry’s bed and folded his arms in defiance. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Seamus shook his head and picked the magazine up again. He opened it to a page that had a little fold in the top corner. It was the Australian Quidditch team wearing green and gold shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The page was faded from excessive handling and there was a tell-tale stain that could not have been anything other than semen. 

Ron stared at the page for a long time in stunned silence. His thoughts were running a mile a minute. How did he not know? How could Harry not tell him? He was so focused he almost didn’t hear Seamus say,

“Let’s face it, mate. Your best chum is as quare as a t’ree sickle coin.”

The red head took his time to put the magazine back where Seamus had found it. He turned back to his friend and shrugged, “So he’s a poof, big ruddy deal. That still doesn’t mean he’ll go for Malfoy!”

The Irish boy chuckled. “It might work better than ya’ t’ink. ‘Arry has this t’ing right now about doing the opposite of wot everyone expects, right?”

Ron nodded apprehensively.

Seamus continued, “and who is he least expected ta’ be shiftin’ with at this school?”

Ron’s face instantly paled and became a sickly green color as he whispered, “not Snape…”

Seamus’ lips curled up in disgust. “No, you plonker! Try ta’ keep up! Yer not technically wrong, but I was talkin’ about Malfoy!” 

He looked sheepish as he replied, “Well, still…”

“He’s the right prat for the job. And he’s the prat dat’s gonta’ help you get the witch of yer dreams…”

Ron sighed. “I still don’t feel right about it being the ferret.”

“C’mon! He only needs ta’ go out a couple times and dat might be all ya’ need ta’ get ‘Ermione ta’ change her mind. But if ya’ really don’t want Malfoy, we could try ta’ get Professor Sna…”

“Finish that sentence and die, Finnigan.” Ron was smiling, but his tone was dead serious.

Seamus laughed and his eyes flew open, a look of pure excitement; the type of look that would be found on the face of someone who just had an epiphany. He turned towards Harry’s trunk, used a couple of unlocking charms, and bent down to start going through the boy’s things.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” 

He waved his hand dismissively at the red head. “I’m going ta’ see if I can find anything dat will help.”

Ron massaged his temple, his annoyance and confusion finally causing his head to hurt. He couldn’t even respond sarcastically and let out an undignified, “Huh?”

Without looking up he explained, “I’m trynta’ see wot we can find out about wot ‘Arry likes. Anythin’ dat might help Malfoy get closer ta’ ‘im.”

Ron was shocked, but before he could argue, Seamus kept going, “Don’t get all noble on me now. Ya’ lost dat choice the second ya’ said ya’ were in. This is all being done for yer benefit, and ta’ maybe get our friend back. So either keep guard or help me look.”

After a minute of contemplation, he reluctantly bent down to help Seamus dig through Harry’s trunk. They had been searching for over ten minutes and Ron was ready to give up. All they had found were clothes, books, and Quidditch supplies. He sat back onto his heels and sighed in frustration. “Refresh my memory, why am I helping you?”

Seamus continued to go through Harry’s things. “Because it’s the only chance ya’ ‘ave ta’ get ‘Ermione ta’ boff ya’.”

Ron shoved his friend, “Oi! Don’t talk about her like that!”

Seamus rolled his eyes. He had now given up on the trunk and stood up to walk over to Harry’s nightstand, where he started going through it. “Don’t be such a muppet.”

“You’re a right prick, you know that?”

He grinned arrogantly, “Dat’s why ya’ like me.”

That earned Seamus an eye roll. “Sometimes I wonder…”

“Hey, look at these!” Seamus pulled a bunch of ticket stubs out of the top drawer and held them in front of Ron’s face, shaking them as though to tease his friend.

Ron gave him an unimpressed look. “And what do these mean?”

“These mean, ya’ gowl, dat ‘Arry might not be a lost cause after all.” Seamus handed the ticket stubs to Ron and went back to rifle through the drawer for more. He smiled to himself when he found a couple of other items. After taking those, he snatched the stubs out of Ron’s hands and made to leave. 

Ron grabbed him by the sleeve to halt him, “Just one more question before you dash off to do your evil deed.”

Seamus arched his brow, “Yes?”

“Just how did you know about that magazine?”

The Irish boy’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, he hesitated before replying, “Intuition?”

~

Draco had received an owl during dinner the previous night from Finnigan asking to meet him out by the lake the next morning before classes started. He sat on a relatively clean looking rock that was facing the lake. He pulled out a cigarette and used incendio to light it. He let out a sigh of satisfaction at the sensation of the smoke filling his lungs. He shut his eyes as he thought about the situation. 

He reflected on all of the craziness that had happened over the summer. After his father had been arrested, his mother had sent him to stay with her most trusted friends in Wales. With the return of the Dark Lord, she knew that Draco would be punished for his father’s failings and did not wish to see him follow the same path as they had. She gave him a small stipend to live on for the next two years while he finished out school and cut off every possible connection they had. 

He was worried for his mother. She had told him that she would inform the Dark Lord that she had sent him to Durmstrang and hope that it would bide Draco enough time to decide on his own if he wanted to follow in their footsteps. In the brief time he spent over the summer with the Vances, he had his world turned upside down. Firstly: the fact that his mother was dear friends with a muggle-born wizard. That’s how she’d known Draco would be safe with them; she had kept their friendship hidden from Lucius. Not only were the Vances muggle-born, their oldest child who was Draco’s age, Emma, was a squib. 

Emma and Draco had grown quite close over the summer. She was enigmatic and always so happy, despite being the only one in her family without the ability to do magic. Draco couldn’t even fathom having to go through life without it. He had promised her they would work diligently to try to awaken the dormant magic that he was convinced must be inside of her. In exchange, she taught Draco about muggles and their culture. She took him to a couple of underage clubs and that’s how he got introduced to cigarettes. Emma only smoked once in a while when she went to one of the clubs; she had to hide it from her parents. Draco wanted to try them and found he liked them. Before he left for Hogwarts, Emma gave him a care package that included a few packs of the brand he liked most, Benson and Hedges. Draco was snapped out of his reverie with the arrival of the Irish Gryffindor.

“Since when do you smoke, Malfoy?”

He quirked his brow, “Since when is that any of your business?” As if to emphasize his point, he blew smoke in Finnigan’s face.

The Gryffindor waved the smoke away and coughed. “They’re bad for ya’, ya’ know…”

Draco placed the back of his hand against his forehead, like the classic American muggle ladies in the films Emma had shown him. He feigned shock and replied melodramatically, “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that?”

Finnigan rolled his eyes. “I’m just surprised ta’ see ya’ touchin’ anyt’ing muggle,” Before Draco could reply, he held his hand out to the blond, trying to hand him a roll of parchment and a magazine. When Draco just stared at the Irish boy, he put all of the items in the Slytherin’s lap, “Here…”

Draco looked down at the items in his lap, “What’s all this?”

“Ye’d know if ya’ looked at them.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh, but did what the infuriating Gryffindor suggested. He first looked at the magazine; it appeared to be muggle, filled with all different types of musical instruments. He opened it up to a marked page where a really extravagant looking guitar, apparently a Vintage Les Paul, had been circled several times. It was quite expensive, from what he recalled when Emma had tried to explain the conversion rate of galleons to pounds. Draco looked up at Seamus and arched his brow in a silent question.

The Irish boy shrugged, “I t’ink it’s something he really wants. Somet’ing he can’t buy for ‘imself without his family asking questions.”

Draco nodded his understanding but refrained from asking the implied question. Why would Potter’s family care if he bought himself something. He decided that was a question he would try to get answered by the Chosen One himself. He decided to move onto the next item and unrolled the parchment. His forehead creased in confusion, “The Only Ones? The Sex Pistols? The Buzzcocks? I don’t understand…”

“They’re muggle bands dat he likes, I’m guessin’. His favorite is playing at the Red Lion tomorrow night, dat’s a pub in Dufftown.”

Draco looked scandalized, “I cannot be seen in Dufftown!”

Finnigan rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s up ta’ ya’. Ya’ want a way in? This is it…”

Draco eyed the contents of the parchment a little more thoroughly. He was rather impressed with how informative all of the items were, not that he was going to tell the Irish git that. “How did you manage to find out all of this?”

Seamus shrugged, “I’d like ta’ say we went all muggle gansta’ on ‘im, but we just went through all his t’ings while he was off studyin’.”

Draco nodded his acceptance of that answer. “Not bad, Finnigan. I hate to say it, but you could have made…”

“A good Slytherin. Yes, I know.”


	5. Chapter Four

“Today, we start learning about and reading Shakespeare!” Professor Burbage, the muggle studies teacher, clapped her hands together as she was unable to contain her excitement.

The witches and wizards in the class who knew anything about muggle culture, all shared a groan. The rest of them who were not as informed looked at their classmates in bemusement.

“I thought this was supposed to be a muggle studies class, not arse-numbing history? If I wanted to be bored to sleep, I’m sure I could take Professor Binns’ class twice.” 

Everyone in the class, including Professor Burbage, turned to look at Harry in complete shock. He reclined back in his chair and placed his feet on the desk in front of him. The smirk on his face eliminated any possibility of regret for his rude comment. 

After looking at Harry, everyone in the class turned to look at Professor Burbage to watch her response. It was common knowledge that Charity Burbage was always composed and had a very sweet demeanor. However, what none of her students knew was she had been a Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts. She smiled at Harry, an annoyingly patronizing smile. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. You have just volunteered for the starring role in this class’ portrayal of Romeo and Juliet.”

Harry scoffed and shook his head in defiance, “I’m not playing Romeo.”

Professor Burbage laughed again, “I never said you would be playing Romeo…”

The Gryffindor let out a relieved sigh.

“No, no, my dear. You will be playing the part of Juliet.”

The entire class had gotten very good at orchestrating simultaneous reactions as they gasped. They stayed silent and watched in morbid fascination what they were anticipating to be a hissy fit of epic proportions.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the witch as his voice got dangerously low, “I beg your pardon?”

Professor Burbage ignored Harry and addressed the rest of the class, “Mr. Potter will be playing the role of Juliet. This is not a means of humiliation; in fact, this is relevant to what we will be studying. As some of you may or may not know, a significant part of muggle history was the oppression of women. During Shakespeare’s time, men played all of the roles. This is because women were not permitted to be actors. Seeing as Miss Brown and Miss Patil are our only females in the class this year, we have been given a marvelous opportunity to portray a rendition of Romeo and Juliet in an homage to the portrayal of Shakespeare’s works in muggle history.”

Harry crossed his arms in defiance. “Have Malfoy play Juliet. He’s pretty much a girl already.”

Blaise Zabini chuckled before asking, “That wishful thinking there, Potter?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and scowled at the Slytherin. “Go to hell, Zabini.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Juliet.”

Harry jumped up from his chair; Ron grabbed his friend’s arm in a feeble attempt to hold him back.

Professor Burbage stepped in front of Harry and stared down at him, all the while still smiling. “That’ll be quite enough, Mr. Potter. Please take your seat.” She turned her attention to Blaise and continued, “And stop provoking him, Mr. Zabini, or you will be his understudy.”

Harry glared at her, “I’m not doing your bloody play, and I’m sure as hell not playing Juliet.”

The witch leaned in close to Harry and said in a quietly dangerous tone, “We have two choices here, Mr. Potter. You can either agree to play Juliet and I will forget this little scene in my classroom. Or you can go talk with Headmaster Dumbledore. Choose wisely.”

Harry grabbed his satchel, throwing his book, ink well, and quill unceremoniously into it as he spat, “Fuck this,” and left the room of utterly shocked classmates.

~

“My, my, Harry. You certainly have been stirring things up this year. But Professor Burbage has agreed to forget all of this has happened on one condition…” Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he stroked his beard. He waited patiently for the angry boy in front of him to respond.

Harry scowled, “You can tell Burbage where she can stuff her condition. I’m not playing a girl and I don’t want to be in this stupid play.”

Professor McGonagall was standing behind Harry, having to be present as the head of his house. She glared down at the petulant boy. “Potter, you will refer to any adult in this school properly and with the due respect they deserve. If you do not agree to Professor Burbage’s terms, we will be forced to expel you.” 

“Then bloody well do it!”

Professor McGonagall seemed slightly taken aback by his response. She was about to chastise the boy when Dumbledore raised his hand to silently halt her. 

He spoke softly, his tone never giving away what emotions he might be feeling, “Now, Harry, you do need to think about this. I’m certain you do not wish go back to the Dursleys permanently. And you must recall; when a student is expelled from our fine school, their wand is snapped in half and they are forbidden to perform magic ever again. You are being given a choice that very few students who display such unwarranted hostility towards their professors get, so please choose wisely…”

The tension in the air was palpable as Harry glared at the Headmaster. Harry purposely stayed silent for as long as he could take it. He knew he had no other option and let out an annoyed sigh before acquiescing. “Fine. I’ll be Juliet.”

Dumbledore smiled serenely. “Wonderful. Now every night for the next week you will be serving detention with Professor Burbage.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he sputtered in protest, “But, Professor!”

“Now, Harry, you have to be held accountable for your actions and receive the appropriate punishment for your outbursts today. You will meet with Professor Burbage beginning tonight at eight in her classroom.” Dumbledore smiled and waved him off, “Off you go.”

~

“Look!” Seamus cried out as he shoved a piece of parchment in front of Ron’s face. 

Ron had been playing chess against a third year in the common room. He was showing no mercy and was moments away from check mate. He angrily pushed the parchment away from his line of sight and continued his studying of the chess board. He responded with an unenthusiastic, “What?”

Seamus looked at the third year’s pieces and knocked his king over, causing all of the other pieces still standing on the board to cry out in protest. “There, ya’ lost, piss off!”

The third year narrowed his eyes at the Irish boy and stormed off. 

“What you do that for?”

Seamus looked around the common room, making sure that the few students there couldn’t hear him. He handed the parchment to Ron, “There’s gonta’ be an inter-house party in the Room of Requirement on Saturday. If we can get ‘Arry ta’ go, ya’ could make yer move!”

Ron asked warily, “Who’s throwing this party?”

“Me, but dat don’t matter.”

The red head sighed, “Have you forgotten that Harry has detention every single night for the next week, including Saturday?”

“A minor technicality, but ya’ don’t ‘ave ta’ worry about dat.” Seamus gave his friend a ‘cat who caught the canary’ sort of smile.

Ron was really starting to hate that smile. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t ya’ worry yer pretty head about it…”

“Damnit! You’re such a git!” Ron threw his hands up in the air to gesture he had given up. He stood up to storm off.

The few students in the common room turned to stare at Seamus at the outburst, not even trying to hide their curiosity. The Irish boy scowled at all of them, “What ya’ lookin’ at?” A couple of the other students looked away in embarrassment, but two of them continued to stare. Seamus rolled his eyes, “I just broke up with ‘im, alright? Now piss off the rest of ya’!”

~

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;  
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,  
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Professor Burbage clapped her hands together, a delighted smile on her face. “Very good, Mr. Potter! You’re a natural.” She praised enthusiastically. 

Harry rolled his eyes behind her back; he hadn’t even been trying to act. He was certain the barmy old bint was patronizing him, but he didn’t want to get into any more trouble than he already was. He was already livid he was going to miss his favorite band. After a dreadful summer and start of term, it was the one thing he had to look forward to, and that had been taken away from him too. 

The door creaked open and they both turned to see a younger Hufflepuff by the name of Owen Cauldwell standing and nervously fidgeting in the doorway. Professor Burbage approached him and sweetly asked, “How can I help you, Mr. Cauldwell?”

He smiled back at her a bit sheepishly and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor, but I just came to inform you that the Headmaster asked me to retrieve Harry Potter.”

She eyed him warily. He shrugged at her to indicate he had no idea why he had been sent. The witch assented with a sigh,

“Alright, Mr. Potter. We can pick up from where we left off tomorrow evening.”

Harry nodded, grabbed his things, and followed the boy out of the classroom. When they were half way down the hallway, he couldn’t keep the annoyed tone from his voice as he asked, “What does Dumbledore want now?”

Owen shrugged. “Well, nothing. Some boy offered me five galleons if I pretended that the Headmaster needed you.”

Harry grasped Owen’s arm to stop him from walking, a little too roughly if the small whimper was any indication. “Which boy?”

The younger boy trembled and his voice quivered, “He, uh, he asked me not to say…”

Harry tightened his grip on the child’s arm and practically growled, “Tell me who it was.”

Owen’s eyes grew wide with fear as he tried to pull away from the much bigger boy. He stuttered, “D… Dr… Draco Mal… Malfoy…”

Harry glared at the boy skeptically, but released his grip. Owen stepped away from his reach. Harry felt slightly remorseful for how much he scared the boy. “Did he tell you why he wanted me out of detention?” He asked in a softer, calmer tone. 

Despite Harry’s tone and releasing his stranglehold on Owen’s arm, the Hufflepuff continued to tremble, “He… He just said that you mi… Might need a b… Break after the d… Day you’ve had…” He stood there in visible fear, it appeared he wanted to run as fast and far away as possible, but didn’t want to upset Harry even more.

After a few more moments of silence, Harry shook his head and barked, “You can piss off now.”

Owen was more than happy to oblige the order and ran in whatever direction would get him the furthest from the Gryffindor.

Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map and scanned it quickly. The dot he was searching for was nowhere in sight. Harry was curious but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. He darted upstairs toward Gryffindor tower so he could change before his little trip to Dufftown.

~

Draco was leaning against the bar inside of the grungy pub, silently contemplating how little he was being paid for this. Although he could use all of the extra money he could get, he was seriously reconsidering the deal. Draco cringed at the sounds emitting from the stage. What made it worse was the fact that the band named themselves, ‘The Buzzcocks’. Why they were Potter’s favorite muggle band was beyond him. He couldn’t help but think that Potter had to be mental, there was no other reason to justify anyone willingly listening to the noise coming from the stage. Why couldn’t his favorite muggle band be something pleasing to listen to, like The Beatles? He continued to insult Potter in his head as he took a sip of whatever horrid concoction the man behind the bar had claimed to be ‘the good stuff’. 

He scanned the crowd for Harry again; he kept losing sight of the Gryffindor in what one of the muggles had referred to as a ‘marsh pit’. It was difficult to hear anyone properly over the irritating sounds the band was torturing out of their instruments. He was going to have to ask Emma about those when he next spoke with her. 

He’d been at the pub for almost an hour and Potter had yet to see him, but he would be damned before he would even attempt to try to get closer and having to be physically assaulted by dozens of muggles on the way. He lit another cigarette and turned his attention back to his foul drink.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” someone yelled near his ear.

Draco was about to throw his pathetic excuse for a drink in said stranger’s face when he turned and found himself staring into green bespectacled eyes. He cheered internally, now he wouldn’t have to risk injury to talk to Potter. “I never knew how dirty this pub was going to be,” he said coolly, silently thanking Merlin for granting him the ability to lie so quickly and effortlessly. 

Potter called to the man behind the bar for some water. After the bar man gave him a thumbs up of comprehension, he turned back to Draco and leaned in close to his ear so he could hear him, “What are you doing here, Malfoy? If you are attempting to ask me out ag…”

Draco waved his hand dismissively and took another drag of his cigarette, “Can you annoy me later, Potter? I’m quite fond of this song.”

Potter gaped at the blond in disbelief. 

The Slytherin stared at the stage for half a minute then turned his attention back to Potter, “You know, they’re no Sex Pistols, but they’re not half bad…”

The Gryffindor scoffed, distrust clearly on his face. “YOU know who the Sex Pistols are?”

Draco nodded his head along to the beat. “Why? Don’t you?”

Draco let out a silent cheer inside his head when he saw Potter give him a small smile. That’s when he got to really take in the boy’s appearance. The Gryffindor was wearing a pair of tight jeans that were positively indecent and looked as though they had been passed on to him from a long lineage of homeless muggles. The white t-shirt he was wearing had some sort of logo with the words ‘orgasm addict’ written across the chest. Potter’s hair was in its usual state of disarray, but his eyes were practically glowing, apparently full of the life he hadn’t seen in those eyes for quite some time, he realized. 

He definitely approved of what he was seeing. Draco looked him up and down in a slow and calculating way. Just as the band finished their song, he yelled, “You look quite fit tonight, Potter.”

The few scattered muggles near the bar overheard the Slytherin and started to laugh. Draco glared at them.

The Gryffindor smirked and turned to the bar man handing him a bottle of water, “Cheers.” He opened the bottle and took a long drink. 

Draco arched his brow, “Nothing stronger?”

Potter shook his head. 

“I would have thought anyone willing to risk getting in trouble for sneaking out of detention, and school for that matter, would have ordered something a little bit stronger than water…”

He shrugged and gave the blond a knowing smile. “I didn’t technically sneak out of detention. Apparently, I have some sort of, well, guardian angel.”

Draco took a sip of his drink and asked innocently, “Oh, really?”

Potter did not push for more information. “Anyway, I need to re-hydrate,” He left the money for the water on the bar and appeared to realize something. “Hang on, this is a muggle pub, how did you pay for your drink?”

Without missing a beat, he answered, “I offered the bar man a sexual favor.”

The Gryffindor laughed and shook his head. He didn’t even slightly begin to believe the blond. 

Draco shrugged as he relented, “If you must know, I convinced a muggle outside that a sickle is a rare coin from another country, and I’d be willing to part with it for, I believe he gave me 25 ponds?”

He laughed again, “Pound. The muggle currency for the United Kingdom. Have you really learned nothing from muggle studies?”

Draco looked at the boy in feigned confusion, “I take muggle studies?”

The Gryffindor let out another laugh that reached his eyes. He shook his head a little and started to head back towards the stage.

“Potter!”

He turned around and quirked his brow at the blond.

“So, about the inter-house party that’s happening on Saturday night?”

Potter shook his head, clearly not understanding where Draco was going with that question. “What about it?”

The blond shrugged, an almost earnest smile on his face as he asked, “Will you go with me?”

The Gryffindor laughed and shook his head.

The Slytherin smirked, “Is that a ‘no’?”

He smiled and tilted his head, in a rather coy manner. “No.”

Draco arched his brow, “Then, is that a ‘yes’?”

Potter rolled his eyes and waved dismissively as he turned around and went back into the crowd. Draco smiled to himself, feeling rather triumphant over such a small victory.

~

Draco had never been more annoyed that muggle studies started at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. He rubbed his temples gingerly, trying to will away the headache that was attempting to rip his skull in two. He was silently cursing the bar man’s lack of skill, the band for pretending to know what their instruments did, Potter for being a fan of theirs, Blaise for being a horny bugger, pretty much any person who breathed at that moment. Draco was so immersed in his homicidal thoughts he never heard Professor Burbage call his name. “I’m sorry, Professor, I didn’t catch that…”

A couple of the Gryffindors started to chuckle; he gave them his best Malfoy Death Glare. He smiled victoriously when one of them cringed. 

Professor Burbage smiled sweetly at him, too sweetly. “I had been saying, since everyone else in the class, except for you, has volunteered for the roles they want to play; I have to assign you the one role no one particularly wanted.”

Draco was far too hungover to be dealing with confusion as well. “Role?” 

“For the play, Mr. Malfoy! Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet?”

That is when it clicked. He could feel a sense of dread overwhelm him. He didn’t want to, but asked, “And the role no one volunteered for was?” The snickers throughout the room did not ease his anxiety.

Professor Burbage ignored them, quite cannily. Draco felt a surge of jealousy and a little annoyed at her for having such an ability. 

“Why, the other lead! You are to be portraying Romeo!” She smiled, excitement painted on her face as though it were blush. 

Draco felt sick, although he wasn’t entirely certain if it was his hangover, or the awful news he’d just heard. Perhaps it was both. “I suppose if I object in the same manner as Potter, I’ll find myself having a week’s worth of detentions as well?”

She nodded as she handed him his script.

Draco sighed, “Well, that settles that then…”

~

At lunch time, Draco was thanking whatever gods had created the coffee bean and nursed the cup in his hands with extreme appreciation. He wondered if he could legally marry a cup of coffee.

Blaise sat down next to his obviously ailed friend and asked far too loudly for the blond’s aching head, “How’d it go?”

“Keep it down, you prat!” Draco hissed.

He gave his friend a confused, yet slightly concerned look. “Why? It’s not as though anyone near us could jeopardize the plan.”

Draco growled, “I wasn’t talking about the plan, fuckwit. I was referring to your abrasive voice. And it went as fine as it could go, I suppose. He didn’t hex me, so I count that as a win.” He turned towards Blaise, moving one of his legs over the bench so he was straddling it to face his housemate fully. “Though I have realized that I’m going to need more financial provision.”

The confused look on Blaise’s face had not left. It would appear as though he wasn’t quite sure what Draco was trying to say to him. The blond let out an annoyed sigh, “Money, you imbecile.”

As realization hit the black boy, his eyes widened in amazement. “How the hell is a hundred galleons not enough?!” His outburst caught the attention of the majority of the Great Hall. Then he had the gall to look sheepish. “Why do you need more money?” He asked in a much quieter voice.

“If you had to go through the hell I did last night, you’d demand more money, too. Just fifty more galleons should cover all of the pain and suffering I have had to and probably will have to endure. I am attempting to seduce a Gryffindor I am not fond of, so you can get off with a mudblood, remember?”

Blaise couldn’t even bring himself to argue, likely due to the lingering embarrassment he felt about the attention his outburst had caused. He nodded his head and left his friend to suffer in peace.

“Git,” Draco muttered under his breath as he moved his leg back over the bench to face the table, and more importantly, his beautiful cup of coffee. 

~

Later that day during Care of Magical Creatures, Ron pulled Seamus away from the crowd of students all cooing over the litter of baby kneazles. He looked to make sure there was a far enough distance between them and the class before he asked, “Do you think Zabini was referring to the backing, or whatever it is you called it?”

“Wot are ya’ on about?”

Ron gave him a look of exasperation.

Seamus’ eyes lit up with realization, “Oh! Ya’ know, I bet he was. I guess I’ll have ta’ chat ta’ ‘im about this new t’ing I ‘eard of called: subtlety.” 

Ron felt appalled on Harry’s behalf. “It cost more than a hundred galleons to get someone to ask out Harry? He can’t possibly be that ba…” 

Ron’s comment was interrupted by the sound of one of the monster books yelping in pain at having been slammed against a tree. Hagrid had liked those awful things so much, he assigned them to all of his students from every year when his job was reinstated. 

Everyone’s attention instantly drew to the far side of the pen. “Goddamnit, Hagrid! I told you I’m fine! Will you leave me the hell alone and just… Teach your bloody lesson?” Harry let out an angry huff and walked away from the flabbergasted man. 

“Bad…” Ron finished lamely as he looked around at all of the shocked and even scared faces of his classmates.

Seamus looked from Harry to Hagrid. Harry had an uncharacteristic sneer on his face; whereas Hagrid looked as though he were about to burst into tears. “Ya’ know? I t’ink I would ‘ave asked fer two hundred…”

~

Saturday night had finally arrived. Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean came down from their dorm into the common room to find Harry sitting on one of the settees, reading a book.

“Hiya, Harry. Aren’t you going to be late for detention?” Dean asked.

Harry let out an annoyed huff and kept reading his book as he replied, “Burbage apparently had other plans, or something, and told me because,” He lifted one hand to do a half-hearted air quote while talking in a mocking higher pitch, “I was such a good Juliet,” He rolled his eyes to no one in particular and stopped the higher pitch, “She said I didn’t need to finish my last detention.”

Seamus smirked at Ron. The red head stared at him in confusion. What no one knew was Seamus had taken it upon himself to approach Professor Burbage and let her know how much of Harry’s free time was being spent rehearsing his lines. He asked her if Harry could have a miss on his last day of detention and she begrudgingly agreed. 

The Irish boy jumped over the back of the settee Harry was sitting on, landing awkwardly next to him. He flung his legs over his friend’s lap. “So does dat mean yer comin’ ta’ the party?”

Harry lowered his book and gave the boy, who was half in his lap, an incredulous look. “Oh, yeh, that’s definitely going to happen,” he responded in such a dry tone, it was almost difficult to discern the sarcasm.

Seamus leaned over and lay his head on Harry’s shoulder. He took his friend’s book and closed it before tossing it onto the floor. He ignored the boy’s aggravated sigh and asked, “Come off it! Ya’ don’t want ta’ be the only person not there, do ya’?”

Harry pushed the Irish boy’s legs off of his lap and pulled away from the awkward cuddling position they were almost in. He gave the boy a feigned beatific smile and said through gritted teeth, “Please don’t make me hurt you…”

“Stop being such a prig. Would it kill ya’ ta’ be a little more social? Come with us ta’ the party! Ya’ never know, ya’ could ‘ave fun. Anyway, ‘Ermione is gaggin’ ta’ go, but she won’t unless ya’ go.”

Seamus gave Ron a pointed look, silently communicating that giving Harry a guilt trip might work better than other tactics. He honestly had no idea if Hermione wanted to go to the party, but maybe Harry’s unwavering loyalty would work in their favor.

Harry leaned down to grab his book and started reading again. “If Hermione wants to go so badly, then she should just bloody go. I’m not her keeper.”

Before Seamus could attempt some other sort of emotional manipulation, Ron sat on the arm rest next to Harry. He tapped his friend’s shoulder to get his undivided attention. When Harry looked up, Ron smiled and asked, “Would you do it for me, mate?”

Harry carefully surveyed his friends. Every single one of them gave him a look, silently imploring him to agree. He sighed, “Fine, I’ll make a bloody appearance.” He put his book on the table and got up. As the rest of the guys ran to the entrance to the girls’ dormitory and called out to them to come down, he stuffed his wand into his back pocket and moved to leave through the portrait hole. As he stepped out, he almost collided with none other than Draco Malfoy. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?”

The blond looked a little confused, he must not have realized he had found the correct portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room. Ignoring Harry’s tone, he smiled and said, “We never confirmed a time to meet for the party. I was hoping I hadn’t missed you. Do you have any idea how difficult your common room is to find? I had to bribe one of the ghosts to point me in the right direction, and even then I wasn’t sure.”

Harry’s mouth turned down in a half smile of disbelief. “How does one bribe a ghost? Was it another sexual favor? How would that work exactly?”

Malfoy chuckled, “It’s a lot easier than you would think.”

Harry shook his head at the blond. He grabbed Malfoy’s hand and started pulling him in the direction of the party, “Whatever, let’s just go…”


	6. Chapter Five

Potter had dropped Draco’s hand after turning their first corner, but he had been a little taken aback by such an intimate gesture to have happened in the first place. He followed the Gryffindor as he weaved through the halls before they reached the area where the Room of Requirement lay supposedly dormant. He was about to ask Potter how they were supposed to get in when a random student, poorly hidden behind a suit of armor, hissed something at them.

Draco approached the boy; he was a third year Slytherin, although he couldn’t remember his name. “What did you say?”

The student cupped his right hand over his mouth as he whispered, “You have to walk by three times thinking of a place to drink a bottle of firewhisky.”

Draco nodded and thanked him. He did as the boy instructed and was rather pleased with himself when the door appeared. He opened it for Harry, “After you…”

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes at the gesture and walked in. There were loads of people from every house already inside. Draco was more surprised to see Ravenclaws at the party than he was to see a couple of first years passed out in a corner that had some very comfortable looking beds. “Not a bad turnout!” The blond half-yelled, his tone impressed.

Potter rolled his eyes and walked off. In a matter of minutes, Draco had lost the Gryffindor. He sighed in frustration. He wasn’t going to spend the entire party hunting down the moody boy and decided to see if anyone he might know was there yet.

As he wandered through the party, he had to admit; whoever organized it did a very good job. The Room looked like one of the underage muggle clubs Emma had taken him to; a large open area for everyone to dance that was lined with neon and black lights. There was a makeshift bar to the right that was being manned by a couple of seventh year Ravenclaws. Somehow there was really upbeat muggle music playing. He couldn’t quite figure out how, but he decided to not let that bother him. 

Draco stopped at the bar and asked for a pumpkin juice. After his hangover from hell the other day, he decided he should keep his wits about him for this party. He leaned against the bar, sipping his drink as he people watched. The party had only started about an hour prior and there were already several witches and wizards smashed out of their minds. That included his best friend, Pansy. He watched in amusement as she drunkenly groped and grinded against a girl from behind on the makeshift dance floor. When Pansy flipped the object of her lust around, likely to keep up her ministrations with some sloppy kissing; to her apparent horror she came face to face with Ginny Weasley. The two girls squealed in disgust and moved away from each other as quickly as possible. 

Draco was still laughing when Pansy spotted him and joined her friend at the bar. She punched him in the arm and scowled.

The blond rubbed at the area she had just punched, but the smirk on his face never left. “You should have at least seen if she was a good kisser.” 

Pansy slapped him and stormed off. Draco rubbed at his cheek in amazement. Some people just couldn’t take a joke. He finished his juice and decided he should try and find Potter again.

~

Ron and Seamus were standing in a corner taking sips of the bizarre drinks the makeshift bartenders had made. 

Ron was tapping his foot nervously, not quite to the beat of the music that was playing. He was starting to get a little anxious. Hermione had said since Harry agreed to come, she would meet them all at the party. That had been almost 45 minutes before and Ron had yet to see her. “Where is she?”

Seamus shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe she’s still getting’ ready, ya’ know ‘ow birds can be.” He then looked at his friend pointedly, “Ya’ know, I been meanin’ ta’ ask. Whyd’ya only ask ‘Ermione out AFTER she got fit?”

Ron scowled. He knew he had feelings for Hermione in third year; he just couldn’t bring himself to tell her before. “It’s not like that and you bloody well know it!” He defended hotly. “You know I’ve liked her for a long time!”

The Irish boy nodded, but kept on, “Lookin’ at it from the outside, it’s just a little convenient, ya’ know? I know ya’ had a t’ing for her when she was, ya’ know, ‘ow she was. Now she’s this gorgeous and vapid t’ing and every boy at this school is gaggin’ ta’ ‘ave a go. It’s just, it seems ta’ be like, ya’ liked her before when she was nice and never told her. Now she’s ‘ow she is, gorgeous, but pretty full of ‘erself and dat’s when ya’ ask her out.”

“Hey. I know she’s changed. In more ways than one, but I know the girl I’ve liked all these years is still in there somewhere. It’s got nothing to do with how she looks.” Ron defended. 

Seamus nodded his understanding and smiled at his friend. Ron could tell that the Irish boy still felt skeptic, but was grateful that he wasn’t going to push it. He didn’t want to keep defending his feelings for Hermione. He wanted to see her as more than the shallow and narcissistic behavior she had been exhibiting. He wasn’t blind, he was as well aware of how fit she was as the rest of the school, but the longer he kept defending her the more he questioned why he liked her so much. But he wasn’t going to tell Seamus that.

~

Harry had a headache, whether from the obnoxious music or because he had agreed to come to the party, he wasn’t entirely certain. He saw a somewhat solitary place in a corner of the room and decided he should wade through the sea of drunken students to reach it. Everyone else was congregating near the makeshift bar or on the dance floor area. Harry rubbed at his temples in a vain attempt to dispel his pain and started his venture toward the quiet looking corner. He had managed to avoid being rubbed up against as he traipsed through the dance floor. It wasn’t until Harry had almost reached, what he had now dubbed in his head as his sanctuary; that he bumped into none other than Blaise Zabini.

The Slytherin gave him a wicked smile. “Why, hello, Potter. Fancy seeing you here. You wouldn’t happen to know if Granger is coming, would you?”

Harry couldn’t stop the sneer of disgust. He pulled the boy aside by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against a wardrobe. Harry hissed near his ear, “You stay away from her, you prick.”

Zabini gently peeled Harry’s hands off of his shirt, appearing utterly unconcerned over the threatening tone in the Gryffindor’s voice. “Now, now, Potter. No need for name calling.” He casually dusted off his collar as he continued, “I’ll stay away from her, but I cannot promise that she’ll stay away from me. You, of all people, should know how appealing I am to little mudbloods…”

Harry saw red and he slammed Zabini against the wardrobe again. He withdrew his wand and held it to the Slytherin’s throat. He was pretty damn tempted to use one of the random spells he had learned from the Half Blood Prince’s potion book. 

Malfoy saw what was happening and pushed his way through the crowd to reach them. He was able to pull Harry away from the other boy before he did something he might regret. When Zabini was free of the angry Gryffindor’s grasp, he did not hesitate to get as far away from them as possible, easily disappearing into the throngs of students.

Malfoy was practically cradling Harry against himself and whispering into his ear to calm down. He pulled away from the blond and turned around. Harry had an uncharacteristic sneer on his face. He got into the Slytherin’s face and hissed, “Protecting your own?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and then shook his head. “No, you git, I’m a Slytherin remember? Self-preserving and all that? You looked like you wanted to murder him and I figured it wouldn’t be prudent for the Savior to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban over a prat like him.”

Harry eyed the blond suspiciously. He couldn’t figure out what Malfoy was playing at. First: asking him out on a date, as though all of their years as rivals never happened; then getting him out of detention without wanting anything in return or making it a ruse to get him into trouble. Those two actions alone were baffling, but then to show up in Dufftown to watch the Buzzcocks play? If this was some sort of trick, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Harry shrugged his internal dialogue off and turned toward a nearby table with some abandoned drinks on it. He slammed down three different shots of who knows what and left a stunned Malfoy in his wake. 

~

Hermione had finally arrived to the party about two hours after it had started. She was wearing a tartan mini-skirt, black spiked heels, and a revealing black halter top. The top was slightly shimmery and buttoned up in the front starting at her high midriff and ending at the top of her breasts, exposing her now deep cleavage as well as the space between her belly-button and hips. She had curled her hair, let it down in a messy but effective style, and had used her makeup sparingly, giving her a natural glow. 

Hermione was well aware of how her appearance would be received, but still giggled in a coy manner over the wolf whistles that were sound as she walked in to the party. She was basically dressed as a sexy school girl and while that may not be a common concept in the wizarding world, clichés always seemed to be able to span cultures. She winked playfully at some of her onlookers and purveyed the rather large crowd. She saw Blaise standing near the bar, leaned against it with a drink in his hand and a sulky countenance. Without hesitating she approached the Slytherin. Hermione gently stroked his arm when she reached him and asked, “Are you alright?”

Blaise went from sullen to elated in less than a second, his face changing with his now pleased demeanor. He looked her up and down in appreciation and gave her one of his most alluring smiles. “I am much better now that you’re here…”

Hermione giggled again and sat on one of the stools Blaise had proffered in a gentlemanly gesture. He asked her what she would like to drink and barked the order at one of the students acting as barman. She gave a smile as thanks to the Ravenclaw student who handed her a bottle of butterbooze and turned her attention back to the boy next to her. Hermione had to admit that Blaise was rather charming, for a Slytherin. 

~

Draco had lost track of Potter after their encounter earlier with Blaise. Despite being in a room that turned into whatever you needed, it still had a limit on space, and thus it was incredibly frustrating that he hadn’t been able to find Potter in over thirty minutes. When he had all but given up, he saw the Gryffindor sat at a table with a few other students, pounding shot after shot. Just as Potter grabbed another shot, much to the impressed faces of the people sitting around him, Draco approached and halted the obviously drunk boy by grabbing his wrist gently. “I think you’ve had enough. Why don’t you give me that?”

Potter pulled away from the blond and twisted his body away, almost petulantly. “No! This one’s mine. Get your own!” Before Draco could argue or intervene, Potter slammed the shot back and smirked triumphantly at the blond. 

Draco relented with a smile and a shake of his head. The Gryffindor was utterly smashed. He was about to offer to walk the boy back to his common room when a techno version of the muggle song, ‘Let’s Hear It for the Boy’ started to play. He had heard it before at one of the muggle clubs and had to admit, it was rather catchy.

Potter grinned and proclaimed, “I like this song!” He jumped up on the table and started gyrating to the music. The students sat around it were letting out appreciative hoots over the spectacle he was making. This drew even more attention and several more students approached the table to watch Potter dance, rather well if he were completely honest. Draco wasn’t sure where the Gryffindor had learned to dance like that, especially considering what an arse he made of himself at the Yule Ball two years ago. 

Potter seemed to take all of the surrounding students letting out wolf whistles and cat calls as his cue to turn it up a notch. His upbeat dancing turned into a semblance of a strip tease and he unbuttoned his shirt. Draco was rather shocked, he never took Potter for one to behave so, well, brazen. When the Gryffindor had finished unbuttoning the shirt, he took it off and swung it over his head like a lasso. As more appreciative whistles and whoops were sounded, Draco felt angry. Couldn’t any of the other students tell that Potter wasn’t in his right mind? And they were just letting him make a spectacle of himself. 

Draco had had enough. He picked up the boy’s shirt from the ground and then proceeded to try to persuade the Gryffindor to step down off of the table. Potter was proving to be as stubborn in this as he was in every other aspect of his life. 

Potter continued to dance, shrugging off Draco’s concerns. He did a little spin, slipped on a bit of ice that had been on the table, and fell. He ended up hitting his head against one of the stools as he collided with the floor. All of the students who had been watching clapped and cheered before moving on do their own things now that the show was over. Draco gave them all a Malfoy Death glare and moved to help the ‘Boy Who Drank’. He bent down and placed Potter’s arm around his shoulder, pulling him up and helping the drunken boy walk towards the door.

Potter rubbed his head where it had collided with the wooded stool. He then let out a bark of laughter before saying, “Whoops.”

Draco let out a sigh and continued to pull the Gryffindor forward, trying to avoid either of them tripping over the other. “’Whoops’ is right, clumsy git. Come on…”

At that moment the Gryffindor seemed to realize that Draco was guiding him away from the party, and more importantly, all of the alcohol. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to get a bit of fresh air…” Draco answered as he practically dragged him out of the room. He propped Potter against the wall off to the side of the Room of Requirement, still keeping the boy’s arm around his shoulder as he pulled his wand out and accio’d the chair a few yards away from them. He then helped the Gryffindor move to sit on it. He tipped Potter’s head up and attempted to check how dilated his pupils were. “How do you feel?” Draco asked.

Potter let out an uncharacteristic giggle and replied, “A little dizzy.”

“I bet.” The blond chuckled. It was quite an amusing and almost endearing sight, seeing Harry Potter behaving like a goofy child. He handed the Gryffindor back his shirt and continued, “You got a pretty good bonk to the head. Do you feel sleepy?”

“Mmmm,” was his dazed response.

“That’s not good.” Draco pulled out his wand and used lumos to light it, he tried to pry one of Potter’s eyes open wider and shine the light into it to check his pupil’s reactivity to it, “It might be the several liters of alcohol you imbibed, or it might be a concussion.” He lowered his wand and ended the spell. Potter’s eyes seemed to react appropriately, but he was not a mediwizard. “I can’t tell for sure, but you might want to be careful, watch out for signs.”

Potter sighed and pulled his shirt back on. He was attempting to button it up, but gave up after the third one thoroughly perplexed his clumsy hands. “How discommodious.”

Draco rolled his eyes, although the affection in them would have been easily seen by any sober person. He kneeled down and started buttoning the rest of the shirt up for the Gryffindor. “Leave it to you to refer to a possibly serious head injury as embarrassing.” 

Potter gave him an appreciative and goofy smile. Draco felt a little taken aback. Not because of the smile itself, although that was rare sight these days. No, he was taken aback by his physiological response to the smile. Draco should not have felt as warm as he did from such a simple gesture.

~

Ron had almost given up on Hermione coming to the party when it had been almost four hours and he hadn’t seen her. He was about to leave when he saw her sitting on an isolated two-person settee, rather cozily with none other than Blaise Zabini. Jealousy overwhelmed him and he felt shaky with anger. Before he could decide if he should storm over there and punch the slimy Slytherin in his ugly face, he felt the entire world drop from underneath him. His anger morphed into unrelenting heartbreak as he watched Zabini lean in close to Hermione and kiss her. And from where he was standing, she appeared to be enjoying it. Ron could not watch any longer, he crushed the cup in his hand and stormed out.

As soon as he left the room, he saw Malfoy off to the side talking to Harry. His anger surged again and he approached the pair. He grabbed the blond by his arm and pulled him away. Harry appeared to be far too drunk to realize what was going on. Ron pulled him far enough away that he was certain Harry wouldn’t hear what they were saying.

Malfoy pulled Ron’s hand from his forearm and glared at him. “Have you finally gone mad, Weasley?”

Ron ignored the question and growled, “It’s off. The whole fucking thing is off…”

“What are you talking about?” Malfoy sounded as annoyed as he did confused.

Ron waved his hands in a dramatic charade to indicate what he was talking about was done. “She’s not bloody interested in me. She wants that utter prat Zabini…” He spat as though the name left a foul taste in his mouth.

Malfoy looked back at Harry, who had lain his head against the wall and was murmuring something to himself. He appeared to be in a rush to finish their conversation. “You have feelings for her, right?”

The redhead scoffed at the questions. Having feelings for Hermione was putting it mildly. “Are you daft? Of course I do.”

“Listen to me. If you have feelings for her, no matter how big or small, then you should ruddy well fight for her. And,” The blond let out a sigh, “I am only ever going to say this once, so pay extremely close attention.” He leaned in closer to Ron and whispered, “And so help you Merlin, Weasley, if you repeat this to anyone.” Malfoy paused for a moment, as though he was contemplating whether or not he should keep talking before he finally said, “You are twice the wizard Zabini will ever be…”

At that moment Harry started to slide down from the chair and Malfoy was instantly back at the boy’s side. Ron watched in amazement as the blond gently smacked his friend’s face a couple of times and cried, “Wake up, Harry!” 

Ron wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the fact that Malfoy was acting so caring, or the fact that he just called Harry by his first name. He was so immersed in his baffled thoughts he almost didn’t hear Malfoy direct something to him. The blond was kneeling in front of Harry, but had turned his head slightly in Ron’s direction, “Don’t give her up without a fight.”

Ron gaped at the blond as he watched him continue his concerned ministrations for Harry. He wanted to ask if he needed any help, or ask Harry if he was alright, but watching the scene unfold; he had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be necessary. Draco Malfoy, the pureblood preaching, git of Slytherin, had not only been more than capable in taking care of a very inebriated Harry Potter, he had given a so-called blood traitor romantic advice and complimented him! The previous summer had obviously had its impact on changing Malfoy as well as everybody else. While Ron was questioning all of the other aspects of the stupid plan that Seamus had concocted, he had a feeling that he didn’t need to worry about Malfoy anymore. He let out a sigh and went back to the Gryffindor common room.

~

Harry felt very wobbly, his head was spinning and he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. There was a pain in his head that throbbed almost as bad as his scar would when Voldemort was trying to mess with his dreams. He felt cool hands cupping his face and heard a soft, “Please wake up.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes and was met with Draco Malfoy’s face. He really did have a handsome face. His cheeks and chin had grown sharper as he grew out of the baby fat that softened his features. The angles in the blond’s face were nowhere near as severe as his father’s; Malfoy’s angles suited him in a very attractive way. The Slytherin’s usually piercing eyes seemed softer and more human, he was pretty sure the concern in them was genuine. Harry couldn’t help but smile in surprise as he said, “Hey, your eyes have specks of blue in them.”

Malfoy laughed. It wasn’t a mocking or annoyed laugh; it was a genuine and amused laugh. “Astute observation.”

Harry felt inexplicably pleased over having such a pleasant exchange with none other than Draco Malfoy. That feeling was short lived. After giving the blond a lop-sided grin, he turned his head to the side, and promptly threw up. 

Malfoy let out a sigh and used a cleaning charm on the vomit. Harry was a little surprised that Malfoy would even need to know cleaning charms, but he didn’t question it. He let the blond pull him to his feet and help him back towards Gryffindor Tower.

The trip was relatively quiet, not quite awkward silence, but not entirely companionable. Malfoy had apparently gotten tired of the silence and said, “You’re rather amusing when you’re pissed. Perhaps you should look into incorporating drink into your daily diet, people might like you more?”

Harry could not think of a snappy response and simply said, “Ha-ha. Very funny. Shut your face.” 

Malfoy chuckled and did not respond. As they continued their trek to the Tower, the blond would occasionally tease Harry for getting so drunk and he’d respond with a feigned laugh. After several minutes of this, they finally reached the portrait hole. Harry moved to lean against the wall and faced the Slytherin. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt before asking, “Malfoy?”

The blond smirked and replied in kind, “Potter?”

The Gryffindor finally looked up and made eye contact with the Slytherin. He really couldn’t get over how much blue was in Malfoy’s eyes. He’d always thought they were silver, or grey or something. Harry suddenly remembered what he was going to say, “I was wondering: why’d you go to all this trouble to help me? We’re not friends and I haven’t exactly given you any reason to, well, be nice to me.”

Malfoy gave him a very genuine looking smile. He quirked his brow in a flirtatious way and answered, “And here I thought the answer to that question was rather obvious…”

Harry turned his attention back to his fidgeting hands grasping awkwardly at the hem of his shirt. He did not want Malfoy to see the blush that was slowly beginning to heat up his face. That response affected Harry more than he cared to think about. He wasn’t an idiot, you don’t ask people out on dates or escort them to parties if there isn’t some form of romantic attraction, but he was still reticent to believe that Malfoy’s intentions were sincere. He stayed silent for a few more minutes before finally mustering up the courage to make eye contact with a pair of beautiful blue speckled eyes that held affectionate amusement. He finally said, “Well, thanks.”

The Slytherin chuckled before asking, “What for?”

Harry shrugged, “Well, I suppose, thanks for rescuing me?”

“If I had done a good job of rescuing you, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have done your little striptease for the entire school.” Malfoy smiled.

Harry let out a groan. He had almost forgotten that had happened. “Fuck. I’m never going to live that down! And I’d worked so hard to get people to leave me alone.”

“Why is that?” The blond asked. There was no venom or demand in his tone, just genuine curiosity. 

Harry shook his head in a silent denial, but was still smiling. “Now why would I tell a Slytherin, let alone the king of the Slytherins, any of my deep, dark secrets?” His tone was slightly dramatic, yet entirely sardonic. If Harry was being honest with himself, while there was some levity in his rhetorical question, there was no need for Malfoy to know that. 

Harry was prepared to have a little fight with the blond over his avoidance. He was certain he would be getting some sort of pressure to explain why he was isolating himself from everyone else, or maybe even being called out on his coy act. 

Harry was not expecting a simple shrug from Malfoy, let alone a cooperative, “Fair enough…”

The Gryffindor couldn’t help but grin. He felt incredibly at ease around the Slytherin, he knew that a lot of that came out of his state of inebriation. What he couldn’t explain was how Malfoy appeared to feel just as at ease around him, too. He thought he might be reading into that until Malfoy leaned in and grasped the tie that was hanging loose and misshapen around his collar. He was honestly surprised he didn’t lose the tie. 

Malfoy started straightening the tie and pulled it back into more of a tie shape. After he tightened it to the top of Harry’s collar, he looked into the Gryffindor’s eyes and smiled. Not a condescending sneer, a mocking curve of the lips; but a real, honest to goodness, smile. After he was done completely messing with Harry’s mind, Malfoy leaned his right shoulder against the wall. 

Harry moved to lean his left shoulder against the wall in order to be face to face with the Slytherin. He reciprocated the smile Malfoy had given earlier and they stayed there in silence for several minutes. He wished he knew what the blond was thinking. Was he thinking the same thing Harry was? Was he thinking what it would feel like if they kissed? Harry closed his eyes and started to lean forward, his lips pursed in an attempt to kiss Malfoy.

The Slytherin drew away from the attempted kiss and whispered, “You better get inside and get some rest. And drink some water or you’ll be hating everything tomorrow.”

Harry opened his eyes; he was in a total state of shock. He couldn’t have been misreading everything could he? Malfoy asked him out! He helped him get out of detention, had been his rescuer at the party in more ways than one, and had been generally nicer to him; which in and of itself was miraculous. Harry’s confusion slowly morphed into disappointment, and then into anger. He gave Malfoy a departing glare as he spat the password at the fat lady, who bristled in annoyance. He practically slammed the portrait in the blond’s surprised face.

~

Ron was sitting alone in the common room, playing a game of chess against himself. He looked up to the sound of the portrait door being slammed shut and saw a very angry Harry storming across the room. He was about to ask his friend what happened and was met with a growl, “No, I will not talk about it.” Harry didn’t even slow down as he stomped his way up to their dormitory.

Ron knew better than to try and talk to Harry when he was in one of those moods. He shrugged his shoulders in acceptance and returned to his game of one-man chess. Before he had been interrupted, he had been contemplating what Malfoy had said to him. Was Hermione and his feelings for her worth the fight? Was he ready to give up?

After another hour of silent contemplation he decided it was about time to go to bed. As he stood up, a giggling and slightly inebriated Hermione came bursting through the portrait hole. She composed herself and hiccupped when she saw Ron, which caused her to fall into a fit of giggles. He scowled at the sight and rolled his eyes. He turned to go to his room as he had originally intended when Hermione asked,

“Are you cross with me, Ron?”

He scoffed and continued to walk up the stairs. 

Hermione went after him and called out, “Hey! Please don’t ignore me.” He halted his steps but did not turn around. She kept on, “Tell me what’s bothering you…”

At this Ron turned around and walked back down the steps. He stopped on the step right before her and asked, “Do you really want to know?”

At the witch’s silent nod, he went on the tirade he had been going over in his head all night. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am cross with you! You gave me this cop out excuse about not being willing to date until Harry does. That’s why you couldn’t go out with me. Then the second, and I mean the SECOND, Harry makes a bloody public appearance, your attached to the lips of the first Slytherin you see!”

Hermione had the gall to look ashamed at that. Ron did not let that faze him and continued, “You could have been honest with me; you SHOULD have been honest with me and told me outright that you weren’t interested in me! I mean, I’ve liked you longer than any of the prats that have been throwing themselves at you! I liked you when you were a sweet little know-it-all who couldn’t give a flying fuck about her appearance. You were just as pretty then to me, as you are now to everyone else! I thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong. How bloody vain and selfish can you be?”

Hermione gaped at him; she appeared absolutely shocked with his blunt tirade, no matter how much truth was in it. She looked slightly more ashamed and answered in a whisper, “Incredibly…”

Ron sighed, the disgust in his tone apparent as he continued, “If you had only known how long it had taken me to realize my feelings and to actually find the ruddy courage to ask you out. You want to know the truth? I never thought I was smart enough for you! Did you know I spent this entire past summer reading, ‘Hogwarts, A History’ so that I could know what you were talking about half of the time? When I realized how I felt about you I wanted to make myself better and smarter for you, because I stupidly thought you deserved it! And then you brush me off for…”

He was silenced with Hermione grabbing his tie and pulling him into a kiss. The kiss was gentle and short. When she pulled away she caressed his face. Ron stood there with a gob smacked expression, unmoving and unable to speak. The witch gave him a bashful smile. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ronald.” She made good on her statement went to the girls’ dormitory.

Ron touched his lips in a slight daze before he broke into a huge grin. He waved his hands in the air in triumph and whispered to no one, “And Weasley catches the snitch!”

~

The Wednesday following the party, Draco had yet gotten Harry to talk to him. He also wasn’t sure when he started thinking of ‘Potter’ as ‘Harry’, but he was certain it had something to do with the fact that he had really wanted to reciprocate the attempted kiss from the Gryffindor. He just didn’t want it to be a drunken mistake. After four days of being ignored and avoided, he caved and approached Weasley about what had happened. The redhead had promised he’d try to talk to Harry for him.

That was why that evening Draco was sitting next to Seamus Finnigan in the Quidditch stands, smoking a cigarette as he waited for Weasley to update them. He watched as the redhead spoke to Harry and then flew over to where they were sitting. 

Draco knew it wasn’t good news considering Ronald Weasley was giving him, the Slytherin who had made his life hell for years, a sympathetic look. 

The redhead hovered on his broom as he said, “Apparently, You Know Who holds the number two spot on Harry’s most hated list now…”

Finnigan let out a loud groan. “What the hell did ya’ do, Malfoy?” 

Draco hesitated, he wasn’t sure if Harry would appreciate his friends knowing what had transpired, but, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? “He was drunk. Very drunk. And in aforementioned drunken state, he thought it was a good idea to try and kiss me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms about kissing him, but I wasn’t about to take advantage of him in such a state…”

The two Gryffindors stared at the blond in shock, approval clearly on both of their faces. Draco decided to ignore them both and changed the subject, “Ah well, on the bright side, at least you gave up on this plan, Weasley.”

“Ummm, well…”

Finnigan’s eyes grew wide with realization as to what that implied. He grinned at his friend and clapped his hands in excitement, “Tell me every t’ing!

Weasley had a very nice deep blush coloring his cheeks. “She, uh, she kissed me last night.” He confessed.

The Irish boy jumped up and down, pumping his fists in the air in triumph, “Alright, Ron! Where’d she kiss ya’?”

Weasley had a dopey grin on his face as he replied, “In the common room…”

Draco shook his head and laughed. He particularly found the disappointed look on Finnigan’s face quite amusing. What a world he found himself in. He was currently sitting in the Quidditch stands, having a civil conversation with two Gryffindors. It was probably a good thing his father was in prison, if he knew, Draco would probably be spending the rest of his life in a room next to the Longbottoms.

The redhead’s bliss was short lived and he frowned as it dawned on him. “A lot of good that does me, though! Harry now hates the only chance I probably ever had at taking Hermione out on a proper date.”

Finnigan jumped up again. At this point, Draco was convinced the boy was part leprechaun. “We might be able ta’ fix it! ‘Arry’s probably embarrassed!” He then turned to Draco, “All ya’ need ta’ do, Malfoy, is settle the score! If ya’ make a complete arse of yerself in front of him, it might get ya’ back in the game!”

Draco was appalled at the thought. “First: stop with all of the sport analogies. Second: you seem to be forgetting something, Finnigan. I am a Malfoy. We do not make arses of ourselves. Not for you,” He pointed at Finnigan, “not for him,” He pointed at Weasley, “not for the muggle queen and definitely not for Harry bloody Potter.” He folded his arms against his chest in silent denial. “Anyway, I’m sure all he really needs is one more day to cool off.”

At that moment, a bludger flew right past Draco’s head, colliding into the bench behind them, shattering it. The blond fell backwards, almost into the gaping hole behind them. When he pulled himself up, he saw Harry flying near the unattended hoops, a beater’s bat in his hand and an angry scowl.

Weasley shrugged helplessly from his broom, “Maybe he needs a couple of days…”

~

The next weekend all of the students who were able to, went into Hogsmeade. While there had been a lot of restrictions implemented since the return of the Dark Lord, Dumbledore had apparently not seen the need to revoke that privilege. Draco had been grateful for it because that gave him the opportunity to attempt to talk to Harry with a semblance of privacy from random onlookers. He watched as the Gryffindor walked into a spell book shop alone and followed him in.

Harry was charmingly unguarded as he perused the shelves. Draco walked down the aisle of book shelves next to the one the Gryffindor had. He watched the dark haired boy walk down the aisle through the openings in the shelves. He noticed how Harry chewed his bottom lip as he read all of the titles that interested him. Draco followed him down the entire aisle until they met at the end. The blond feigned surprise at bumping into him. 

“Pardon me, good sir. I seem to have misplaced my copy of ‘Love Bites’, you wouldn’t happen to know of a nearby shop that sells muggle record albums, would you?”

Harry scowled and walked away from the Slytherin. Draco halted him by gently grabbing his arm, “Hey! I was trying to have a pleasant conversation with you.”

The Gryffindor narrowed his eyes. “Piss off, Malfoy, before I knock your bollocks so hard, your grandchildren will feel it.”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist!”

Harry scoffed, “Don’t think for one moment you had any effect on my knickers, er, pants.”

Draco leaned in close and practically purred, “Is that right? What did I have an effect on, then?”

Harry turned away from the blond and walked to a table near the entrance of the shop. Draco followed him and watched the Gryffindor dig through all of the random flyers and pieces of parchment on it. Not looking at the Slytherin, he replied, “Other than my gag reflex, nothing whatsoever.” He slammed one of the flyers against Draco’s chest and when the blond grabbed it, Harry left the shop.

Draco looked down at the paper in his hands and laughed. It read, ‘Jasper’s Junk Shop-If it’s of muggle origin, we have it!’

~

“Have not saint lips, and holy palmers too?” Draco asked in a disciplined and competent tone. Professor Burbage was pleasantly surprised at how well he was doing, she assumed his parents had him thoroughly disciplined in the arts from a young age.

She watched as Harry let out a sigh and reply without any fervor or feeling, “Ay, Pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer…”

Despite the apathetic response, Draco continued his acting undeterred. He approached the Gryffindor and attempted to grasp his hands. Harry placed them behind his back and pulled away. Still undeterred he kept on, “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued his monotonous tone, “Saints do not more, though grant for prayer’s sake.”

Before Draco could continue, Professor Burbage interrupted them, “Mr. Malfoy. You were born to play this role! You’re doing a wonderful job!” She was pleased to see a self-satisfied smirk find its way to the boy’s lips. The witch then turned to Harry and frowned, “But you, Mr. Potter. I must say, I’m rather disappointed. You showed so much promise during our detentions!”

The boy had the gall to merely shrug at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Perhaps another week’s worth of detentions will help you?”

Harry sighed in aggravation, but she felt a little pleased at the fear that reached his eyes. The fear was short lived. “I don’t see the point. Seeing as I didn’t audition for the role, it’s irrelevant whether or not I can act. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to put on an actual performance.” He sounded bored.

Professor Burbage chuckled, in a way that implied he was incorrect. “That, Mr. Potter, is where you are wrong. I was planning on waiting a couple of weeks before announcing to all of you, but I suppose, now is as good as ever!” The entire class stared at her in bemusement, so she continued to elaborate, “Headmaster Dumbledore came up with a splendid idea! After the Farewell Ball and before the Leaving Feast, our class will perform our rendition of Romeo and Juliet for the entire school and inhabitants of Hogsmeade!”

There were a couple of excited whispers and a lot of groans. Harry sighed again. He rubbed at his temples as though he was starting to get a headache. He then turned to Draco and with much more vigor and passion, repeated his previous line. Professor Burbage grinned smugly and patted Harry on the back.

~

It had been over a week and Harry was still not talking to Draco. The Slytherin had finally relented that what Finnigan had suggested, to even the humiliation score, was going to be his only other shot at getting Harry to talk to him again. While he was still reticent, he had realized it was becoming about more than the money. He liked the challenge, but there was something else lingering, some sort of feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge. That’s how he found himself bribing a Hufflepuff behind the closed door of an abandoned classroom.

Draco approached Zacharias Smith in the hallway and pulled him into the classroom. After he shut the door and assured Smith he had no intention of murdering him, he asked, “You’re commentating at the upcoming Quidditch match, right?”

Despite being assured of not being murdered, the Hufflepuff eyed Draco warily as he carefully answered, “Yeh…” His tone sounded like an open ended question that wasn’t said aloud.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Smith seemed about ready to tell Draco where he could stuff his favor and instantly shut up as the blond threw him a small bagful of galleons. He opened the bag to count how much before he gave a half-smile of approval. Smith pocketed the money. “Whatever you need, Malfoy…”

~

Professor Burbage was sitting at her desk, chewing absentmindedly on a quill as she read over her sixth year student essays on the history of the muggle witch trials. When a knock came on the door, she continued her reading as she called out, “Come in.”

“Professor Burbage, I have a question for you.” She turned her head up to meet Draco Malfoy’s inquisitive gaze.

She nodded and gestured for the young man to have a seat in the chair across from her desk. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy. How may I help you?” 

He sat down and asked, “Well, actually, I’ve found recently that I’m quite enjoying muggle music. I was hoping you would have some suggestions, I’m afraid my knowledge is rather limited. What are some really fun songs? Or sad ones? Or romantic ones?”

Professor Burbage’s eyes lit up. She moved from her seat to walk towards the other side of the room. There was a cabinet that, when the doors were opened, revealed a muggle record player. She opened the lid and pulled a record from the crate sitting next to it. “Seeing as the majority of muggle electronics don’t work within Hogwarts, I had to use a spell on this muggle record player to listen to their music.” She answered the unasked question. 

Draco got up and approached her, “Fascinating.”

Professor Burbage carefully placed the vinyl in the player and moved the needle. She handed Draco the sleeve for him to look at. The witch turned the device on as she placed the needle down at the outer rim of the record. “I know it might seem silly, but I think this is quite possibly the most romantic muggle song.”

She was taken aback by the fire in her student’s eyes as he gave her a genuine smile. He looked down at the sleeve and asked, “May I borrow your record player for the weekend?”

Professor Burbage had never been asked such a thing, but she also hadn’t been listening to her muggle records as much as she used to. She shrugged; someone might as well enjoy them. “Sure, why not?”


	7. Chapter Six

As always, there was excitement on the air as the stands started filling out with all of the Hogwarts students coming to watch the first Quidditch match of the season. The weather was absolutely perfect, windy enough to provide a challenge, but sunny and clear enough to ensure a very exciting game that everyone would be able to watch. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and the stands were absolutely full.

Draco had cast a disillusionment charm on himself and was hiding in the commentator’s box under the desk to the left of Smith’s legs. The seats directly behind the box were usually reserved for the Professors and parents who attended the games. Due to an unforeseen “accident” in which an incompetent second year, who due to a detention, was asked to clean the benches before the game, the seats were empty. Somehow he had mixed up the cleaning tonic from Filch’s office with one of the contraband tricks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes that the caretaker had been taking off the students. It was quite the nasty potion, giving boils in a rather uncomfortable place to the unfortunate soul who sat upon it, even through a pair of robes. None of the professors had the time to come up with a counter to its effects prior to the match, so they simply quarantined the area. Draco realized he must not forget to write a thank you note to the Weasley twins.

While the immediate seats behind them were vacant, Professor McGonagall was not deterred in her duty to monitor the commentator. Decency appeared to take precedence over comfort, so she remained standing behind Smith to ensure nothing inappropriate was said. While that put a slight hitch in Draco’s plan, he managed to bribe a couple of younger Slytherins to create a scene nearby as a distraction when the time would come.

Draco bided his time in the uncomfortable position under the desk, careful to not make any sounds. Smith would occasionally look down in a vain attempt to place where the Slyhtherin was crouched. He silently fumed over the Hufflepuff’s idiocy and reminded himself to smack the Hufflepuff upside his head when this was all over. After about thirty minutes, although it had felt much longer than that to Draco; a couple of screams were heard to the right of the box. Professor McGonagall gave Smith a warning look and left to go investigate what was happening in the stands. 

When the professor had gone a decent distance, Smith gave a thumbs up underneath the desk. Draco cast a protection charm that sealed the commentator’s box in a bubble. He then removed the disillusionment charm. 

Smith gave the Slytherin a concerned look. “You really think that’ll stop her?”

Draco scoffed, “No. Not even in the slightest. But it will keep her busy for a few minutes and that’s all I need.”

Smith let out a slightly nervous laugh, but moved forward with the plan. He turned the microphone closer to his mouth, “And now, ladies and gentleman, I bring you some in-stand entertainment…” Everyone in the stands and the players in the air immediately stopped what they were doing to watch the commentator box with interest. 

Draco jumped up onto the desk and cast an amplifying charm on his throat. He removed the reducio’d record player from his pocket, cast a growing charm, and cast sonorus on the device as well. He turned the record player on as Professor Burbage had shown him and the muggle music started to play. It was a very familiar song to every muggle born or raised student in the stands, from the sound of the uproarious laughter that almost drowned out the music. 

Draco knew that it was time for his moment. There was no point backing out, seeing as he was going to be in detention for the remainder of his school career, if the look on McGonagall’s face was any indication as she practically climbed over people to reach the box. He took a deep breath and held his wand to his mouth like a microphone,

“I thought love was only true in fairy tales  
Meant for someone else but not for me.  
Love was out to get me   
That's the way it seemed  
Disappointment haunted all my dreams.”

The stands erupted with cheers, but Draco tuned them out, focusing all of his attention on the Gryffindor seeker who was hovering about twenty feet away with a stunned expression on his face. The Slytherin started to dance, a little over-the-top but it seemed to correlate with the music. 

“Then I saw your face  
Now I'm a believer  
Not a trace, of doubt in my mind.  
I'm in love; I'm a believer  
I couldn't leave ya if I tried.”

Harry shook his head, but even from the distance Draco was, he could see the redness heat up the Gryffindor’s face. It might have been the wind, but he was pretty sure he saw a smile on the other boy’s face. Before he could move onto the next verse, Smith tapped Draco’s shoulder and pointed to an enraged McGonagall who had successfully broken through the charm. She was charging at the boy, her arm outstretched and Draco ducked out of her way as he continued, 

“Then I saw your face  
Now I'm a believer  
Not a trace, of doubt in my mind.  
I'm in love; I'm a believer  
I couldn't…”

Draco let out a loud groan as he was yanked backwards. Draco turned to look up at the angry witch and was instead met with the infuriated gaze of his Head of House. Professor Snape had never looked so angry. The rage was apparent on the older Slytherin’s face, but what Draco really noticed was a hint of humiliation in the man’s eyes. He appeared to be utterly mortified on behalf of their entire house and the legacy of Salazar himself. 

Despite being literally dragged from the stands, every single student erupted into a series of cheers and applause. Draco was being clapped on the back by several students as Professor Snape carted him through the stands and away from the pitch. He knew he was in a lot of trouble, but he thought it just might have been worth it.

~

The Sunday following the match was when Harry finally spoke to Draco again. The Gryffindor peaked in through a crack in the large wooden door to the classroom that was housing all of the students involved in the Quidditch interruption. He saw the back of Draco’s head. He had started to refer to the blond in his head as ‘Draco’ pretty much 30 seconds into the public serenade. Harry figured if the Slytherin was willing to make such an arse of himself with such a ridiculous song, the least he could do was stop using the boy’s surname; well, in his head by any rate.

Professor McGonagall was grading what appeared to be their transfigurations essays on animagi. Harry opened the door and approached her desk. He gave Draco a wink at the blond’s quirked eyebrow. “Excuse me, Professor?”

The witch did not remove her eyes from the parchment in her hands as she replied, “How can I help you, Potter?”

“Uh, I have a question on our current assignment?” Harry quickly turned back to Draco and used a side nod to silently communicate to the blond to sneak out.

Professor McGonagall let out a sigh and continued to keep her eyes downward. “Couldn’t this wait until later? As you can see, I am clearly busy.”

Harry nodded his head at the Slytherin again. Draco seemed to finally understand the silent communication and carefully packed his stuff into his satchel. Harry watched, feeling a little anxious as he watched the blond slowly move from his chair and creep towards the door. When the witch made a sound of annoyance at his lack of response, Harry responded, “Well, I wondering about the switching charms you went over with us last week. I mean, could spells like that be used on humans?”

“Potter, what ARE you blathering on about?”

Harry took advantage of her continued lack of eye contact and turned to wave Draco to keep going. He asked, “Is it like Polyjuice potion? If I tried to cast a switching charm on two people; could that turn them into each other?”

“No, of course not. Now, if you have finished wasting my time with stupid questions…”

The Gryffindor continued to watch as Draco very slowly made his way to the back of the classroom without making any sort of sound. Harry turned back to Professor McGonagall just as she looked up at him. She was clearly annoyed and he held his breath, waiting to be caught. She silently shooed him with her hand and turned her attention back to the essay she was reading.

Harry was grateful to whatever gods in the universe had his back at that exact moment. He continued to distract her while periodically looking back to see if Draco made it out of the room. “Well, that’s quite disappointing, because, if we could, it would probably be useful for the war, you know? We could lure Death Eaters away with something like that, right?”

As Professor McGonagall was about to turn her head upwards at the door, Harry ran to the side of her desk and turned her chair so she was facing him. “Think about it! We could pretend to be other people to bring them close and capture them!”

She rolled her eyes as she asked, “And how would we lure them?”

Draco accidentally bumped into one of the desks, causing it to make a scraping sound against the stone floor. As the witch turned her head in the direction of the noise, Harry grasped her face and pulled her in close. “Like this,” He pressed his lips to the surprised woman’s closed mouth. 

The loud gasp from every student was the perfect distraction as Draco darted out through the door. After an extremely awkward minute, Harry pulled away and let out a nervous chuckle, “Uh, well, that’s… that’s my plan. I’ll, just be going now.” He practically ran for the door. 

The last thing Harry heard before he shut the door was the uncontrollable laughter from the remaining students as Professor McGonagall barked, “Get back to work!”

~

When Harry turned the corner into the hallway Draco had gone down, he grabbed the Gryffindor by the wrist. “You’ve got quite the pair of bollocks, Potter.”

Harry gave him a brilliant smile. “I figured you deserved a break, seeing as you have detention for… How many centuries?”

Draco let out a resigned sigh, “72, I believe. Professor Snape informed me that even my offspring’s offspring will be serving detention for that little stunt.” That earned him another bright smile. The blond realized he was quite enjoying eliciting that sort of reaction out of the boy in front of him. He then earned a playful punch to the arm. He returned the smile, and then a thought occurred to him. “You know, I really thought I was done for when I bumped into that desk. How did you distract her?”

The Gryffindor appeared a little nervous, maybe even bashful. He couldn’t quite make eye contact as he replied, “Let’s just leave it as a superb display of misdirection.” 

Draco decided not to push it. He laughed and grasped the sleeve of Harry’s shirt before dragging him forward. “Come on. Seeing as a trip to Dufftown was your reward for skipping detention, I see no reason in breaking tradition…”

Harry smiled and nodded. The two of them practically ran toward Hogwarts’ entrance. 

~

Dufftown was about four kilometers from the grounds of Hogwarts. A walkable trek, but when the light is minimal it is definitely a quicker journey to go by broom. Harry knew they couldn’t risk flying their brooms in the day time, so they took the hidden path that paralleled the forbidden forest. After an hour of walking they finally reached the small muggle town. He turned to Draco and asked, “Have you ever been to an arcade?”

“A whatcade?” His tone came off as deliberately obtuse.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued, “An arcade. It’s a muggle thing, they have coin-operated video games. This one is modeled after a lot of the ones they have in America.”

Draco appeared even more confused, so before he could object, the Gryffindor practically dragged him into a little shop. The lights were bright and loud noises echoed off of the walls. Harry smirked at the look on the Slytherin’s face. It was a combination of fear and exhilaration, as though he were experiencing sensory overload. There were a handful of muggle children and a spattering of adults. Harry noticed Draco seemed a little reluctant, so he pushed him into the chair of one of his favorite racing games. He pointed to the wheel, “That’s how you steer, you turn the wheel from right to left to make sure you don’t hit any other cars or walls on the screen and that,” he pointed to a silver bar near Draco’s feet, “is what you press with your foot to go faster. Are you ready?”

The blond shook his head, but Harry pressed the buttons to start the game anyway. Draco kept hitting any and everything in the game, for a seeker, he wasn’t grasping the concept of how driving a car could be. In under two minutes the game was over and had called Draco a loser. Harry laughed when he demanded a rematch to the machine.

“Here.” He handed the Slytherin some muggle coins, grateful he had had the foresight to exchange some of his money into muggle currency. He pointed at the slots where the coins go, “Place two of those in there for a rematch; I’m going to play a different game.”

Draco barely acknowledged the boy as he argued with the machine, pure determination etched into his features. Harry just laughed before he walked to the other side of the arcade.

~

Draco had done really well after the ninth time he played that game. He was rather pleased with himself and had to mentally concede that muggles had a lot of fun ways to pass the time. He still preferred magic, but he supposed if he were magicless, this was a fine substitute. Draco was about to get another rematch when he realized he’d run out of the muggle money, so he was forced to admit defeat and got up to find Harry. 

He found him across the room, jumping up and down on one of the machines. As he got closer he noticed the machine was playing music similar to what was played at the muggle clubs he and Emma frequented. There were several arrows moving and flashing on the screen and Harry was jumping on the corresponding arrows on the metal pad. 

Draco watched with interest, the Gryffindor was oblivious to the world from the look of utter concentration on his face. He had to admit he was rather impressed. The arrows moved incredibly fast, but Harry continued to match them. The song ended and the boy scowled at the big letter “B” that flashed on the screen.

“Stupid bloody game…” He muttered.

Draco laughed and asked, “Then why play it?”

Harry looked taken aback. He must have been so immersed in the game he hadn’t realized Draco had been watching him. The Gryffindor blushed and smiled sheepishly as he replied, “It’s addictive.” He shrugged before he stepped down, “Come on…”

As they headed toward the exit, Draco looked to the left and saw a gated off area outside with a large track and several cars that sort of resembled the one he had used in the game. He stopped Harry from walking and pointed at the track, “What’s that?”

“It’s a miniature Grand Prix racetrack. You want to try it?”

Draco wanted to turn his nose up, not show how excited he was feeling. He could only imagine what his father would think of him playing muggle games and enjoying it. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he realized he could not bring himself to feign disgust and grabbed Harry by the wrist before dragging him outside. Harry let out a surprised laugh.

~

Draco was almost bouncing he was so excited. Harry couldn’t help but watch the blond, his behavior was so endearing. They stood in the queue with a couple of muggles, two girls and three boys, waiting for the first set of kids to finish. Draco’s eyes were bright and alive and Harry felt his stomach flutter. It was an incredibly weird sensation. Almost like the way he used to feel around Cho Chang, only a little more pronounced. He had been certain that Draco was going to trick him, lure him into some sort of trap, but the Slytherin continued to surprise him with every single action. 

The other kids had finished their race and were getting out of the cars. Harry handed the muggle standing at the little podium the money for him and Draco. When the sullen looking teenager opened the gate to let all of them in, Harry ran to jump inside the red car. Draco appeared to be drawn to the green one. When they made eye contact with each other after they had buckled their safety belts, they laughed at each other.

Draco smirked, “We’re so predictable.”

Harry nodded, feeling a little proud of that fact. He hadn’t felt predictable for quite some time. He had been avoiding predictability intentionally, but he had to admit, it felt rather nice to not be actively thinking and checking himself on a constant basis. Draco Malfoy, of all of the people in the world was the one capable of bringing that out in him. Harry did not want to think about what that might mean. 

The muggle approached everyone to make sure they had buckled their safety belts correctly and used his key to turn each of the cars on. When Draco asked the teen how he was supposed to drive the vehicle, the muggle had a pained look of frustration on his face as he gave an apathetic explanation, “Right foot is the gas, left is the brake.” He returned to the podium and explained the rules over a little microphone.

Draco was a little shaky at first, but quickly found his footing as he drove that little car like he’d been doing it for years. He caught up with Harry and called out, “I’m finally going to beat you at something, Potter!”

Harry let out a laugh and called back, “Doubtful, Malfoy!”

The blond grinned arrogantly and sped up, passing the Gryffindor and the rest of the racers as well. Harry was impressed more than he was shocked. Draco had been right after all.

~

After a couple more races, in which Draco felt utter pride at having beat Harry every single time, the two of them finally left the arcade. As they started walking down the main road in the town, Draco lit a cigarette. He walked towards a small park across the street. Harry followed him and they found a bench to sit on.

The Gryffindor turned to Draco and asked, “Why do you smoke those horrid things?”

“Because I can, I suppose,” He shrugged noncommittally. There was no concrete reason to purposely do something that is detrimental to one’s health. 

“They’re bad for you, you know.”

Draco laughed and refrained from giving a sarcastic response. “Well, if you say so.” He flicked the butt away. Harry rolled his eyes, but the blond could swear he saw a flicker of appreciation flash across his face. Draco lifted his arm across the back of the bench, directly behind Harry’s shoulders. He looked into the eyes that had a moment ago silently mocked him. He moved his hand to hover near the back of the Gryffindor’s head and gently grasped a lock of the boy’s hair. He started to twirl it, never breaking eye contact. Harry let out a soft hum of contentment at the intimate touch. Draco thought he heard a soft gasp and he scooted in closer. He had never noticed just how handsome Harry was. Over the course of the summer the Gryffindor had grown, not just up but outwards; gone was the scrawny build that bespoke of malnutrition. The longer they held the stare in their companionable silence; Draco started to feel an overwhelming sense of excitement. 

As electricity filled the air from the intense connection between them, Draco could no longer hold in what he was thinking, “I want to kiss you.” It was not a question, it was not a request; it was a mere commentary on the situation.

Harry arched his brow, not pulling away, but not closing the gap between them. “Is that right?”

Instead of answering the question, asking permission, or any other attempt at verbal communication, Draco leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Harry’s. He watched as the dark haired boy’s eyes fluttered shut, a silent offering of consent. Draco moved his hands to cup Harry’s face and closed his own eyes before he pulled him deeply into the kiss. It was like the electricity in the air had been channeled through their lips connecting, causing a light buzzing to reverberate through their bodies. Draco almost shivered. He let out a small gasp when he felt Harry’s tongue tap against his lips, a silent demand to deepen their kiss. What started out as a gentle exploration quickly morphed into an animalistic and raw need. 

Draco had to admit he was pleasantly surprised at how skillful the Gryffindor was at kissing. He hummed in contentment, the kiss was far more than he was ever expecting. Harry bit at Draco’s lip playfully, eliciting a groan from the Slytherin. He had never felt more turned on in his life. He gently pulled away, pressing his head against Harry’s forehead as they both appeared to try and catch their breath. 

Draco pulled back and looked into Harry’s eyes. He had to repress a gasp at the earnest hope that shone in those shimmering green orbs. The beauty in that look was breathtaking. It was at that moment that he knew he was very much at risk of completely losing himself in whatever was happening between them. 

Before he could ask any questions, Harry jumped up and cried out, “I’ll race you to the ice cream shop!” 

In a flash the Gryffindor had started running down the road. Draco put his swirling thoughts aside and as he ran to catch up, called out, “You utter cheat!”

~

A few days later, Draco was thinking back on everything that had happened that past Sunday. He and Harry had yet to share anymore time together, but whenever they passed each other in the halls, the Gryffindor would give him an almost shy smile. Draco was always taken aback how it caused his heart to flutter every single time. He even looked up a medical maladies book to see if his symptoms were caused by an underlying health issue, as opposed to what he feared these feelings were. He was sitting in the library with Pansy. She was studying for an exam in potions while he was pouring over several different tomes. His internal reverie was interrupted by Blaise when the dark skinned boy practically threw himself into a chair next to the blond. Blaise huffed in annoyance and slammed a random book on the table shut. 

Pansy scoffed at the temper tantrum and asked, “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

He growled, “I just asked Granger to the Farewell Ball.”

Draco chuckled and shared an amused smile with Pansy. “And she obviously declined.”

“You’re damn right she did!”

Madam Pince shushed them from across the room.

Blaise leaned forward and spoke more quietly, “She told me that she can’t go if ruddy Potter doesn’t.” After a brief pause, the dark skinned boy sat up straight, as if an idea suddenly popped into his head, “Hang on, Malfoy, you could take him!”

Draco rolled his eyes and continued to stare at the book in front of him as he replied, “That’s not going to happen.”

“I thought you’d smoothed things over with, Potter? Why couldn’t you?” Pansy asked in a genuinely curious tone.

The blond waved her off dismissively, “That’s neither here nor there.” He then directed his response to Blaise, “I’m bored of your game. I’m not going to do it.”

The black boy dug through his satchel and pulled out a fabric bag. He dangled it in front of Draco’s face, “What if I give you another hundred galleons?”

Draco closed his book and leaned back into his chair. He folded his arms across his chest. After a few moments pause, he brusquely replied, “Piss off, Zabini.”

“How about two hundred?”

At this Draco had finally gotten fed up. He was sick of this stupid game. He wanted to believe it was because he had grown more mature over the course of the year, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with the weird feelings he was developing for Harry sodding Potter. The blond stood up and started tidying up his books and notes. 

As he made to leave, Blaise grabbed his arm and hissed, “Hang on; I’ll give you three hundred galleons if you do this for me, Malfoy.”

Draco stared at the boy, his mouth slightly agape. The prat in front of him was so desperate to get at Granger, he was offering him an obscene amount of money. As much as he wanted to tell the boy where he could shove his three hundred galleons, he knew he could really use the money. A wave of regret engulfed him and he sighed. “Alright. Three hundred.” Draco tried to ignore the disappointed look on Pansy’s face as he left.

~

Professor Burbage was using that Wednesday’s class to organize their very first dress rehearsal for the play. While she was feeling excited and determined, she couldn’t help but sneak in a quiet laugh or two at how ridiculous all of her students looked in their costumes. The best response had been when Harry walked out of the privacy screen wearing a dress. The entire class stopped what they were doing, the majority of them very obviously trying not to laugh, Professor Burbage included. Everyone kept their mouths shut, short of a spattering of a few snickers here and there; in direct response to the challenging glare he was giving the entire class.

In stark contrast to all of the other students, she noticed that Draco appeared to be rather comfortable in the frilly dress shirt and velvet trousers he was wearing. And if she were honest with herself, he pulled the look off well. Professor Burbage had transfigured her desk into a stage and watched as the Slytherin crossed said stage to a very displeased looking Ron. His outfit was reminiscent of the dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball two years prior. She discreetly snickered into her hand.

Draco clapped the red head on his shoulder, “A torch for me: let wantons light of heart  
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,  
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;  
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.  
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.”

Ron pulled on his collar, an attempt to make the stuffy material breathe better. “Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:  
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire  
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st  
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!”

Draco looked as though he were about to burst into a fit of hysterics, but kept his wits about him as he replied, “Nay, that’s not so.”

“I mean, sir, in delay  
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.  
Take our good…” Ron stopped himself mid-monologue and turned to Professor Burbage to say, “Professor, you told me this Mercutio character was a small part!”

She nodded her affirmation, “Yes, Mr. Weasley. That is correct.”

Annoyance clear on his face, Ron sighed. “He’s got just as many ruddy lines as Romeo! And I’m crap at this. I have no bloody idea what these people are saying! Couldn’t I just switch to playing a servant or something?”

Draco opened his mouth as if to make some snide comment when Ron put his hand in front of the blond’s face to cut him off, “One word about my family, Malfoy, and I’ll hex that smirk right off of your face.”

Professor Burbage was a little surprised to see the Slytherin student actually adhere to the Gryffindor’s threat with a nod of assent. She was feeling rather pleased with herself, was it possible her class was bridging the gap between one of the most notorious rivalries in the history of Hogwarts? She’d like to think so. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Weasley, but it is far too late to change characters now! Besides, everyone else is quite fond of their part.”

Harry came out from stage left and offered, “I’ll switch with him.”

The witch responded with a sarcastic laugh. “Nice try, Mr. Potter,” she turned back to Ron, “I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley. You did volunteer for this role.”

Harry interjected, “Unlike some of us.”

Professor Burbage completely ignored the grumpy student as she continued her conversation with Ron, “And look at the bright side! You’ll be dead before the end of the third act!”

The whole class burst into laughter at the appalled expression on Ron’s face. Harry was the loudest. The red head gave his friend an angry scowl, which caused the bespectacled boy to laugh even harder.

After the class had calmed down, as Harry walked off of the stage, Ron ran up to his friend, he bent over to pick some unseen object up and held his hand out, “Harry, here, mate.”

Harry shook his head slightly, completely baffled why the red head was offering his empty hand.

Ron smirked, “You dropped your bollocks.”

Professor Burbage watched in amusement as the entire class let out surprised laughter at the comment. With how moody Harry had been since he returned to Hogwarts, the pure brass goolies it took to make a comment like that to his face was truly impressive. What was even more impressive was the fact that it was Draco who was trying to stop the enraged Gryffindor from attacking his best friend.

~

Hermione was sitting in the library, studying on her own, as was still the norm for her. Despite attracting a lot of attention and finding herself stepping over an overabundance of boys laying themselves at her feet; no one wanted to spend all of their free time studying. She tapped her quill against the book as she tried to memorize all of the spells they had learned in Charms that year in preparation of the upcoming exam. Being grossly immersed into her studies, she never noticed Blaise Zabini approach her. In fact, she didn’t notice his presence until the boy placed his hand over the page of the book she was reading. She looked up and had to refrain from rolling her eyes at the cocky smile he gave her.

“What are you doing?” He asked, but not sounding the least bit interested.

Hermione removed his hand from the page and continued to read as she replied, “Studying.”

Blaise sat on the table and pulled the book from under her gaze. “You can do that later.”

She forced a smile as she turned to look up at the Slytherin, “What can I do for you, Blaise?”

He leaned towards Hermione, “I was hoping you would do me the honor of going to the Farewell ball with me?”

She let out a slightly frustrated sigh. She hated having to repeat herself, not only did it mean that person was not listening to what you said; often it was indicative of a person’s intelligence, or lack thereof. “Blaise, I already told you. I will not attend the ball with anyone if Harry won’t go.”

Blaise gave her a knowing smirk that made her feel a little wary. “You won’t need to worry about that, everything has been taken care of.”

Hermione eyed the Slytherin suspiciously, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged and gave her a cocky wink, “Like I said, it’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll meet you at your Common Room at, let’s say, seven?” He left the library in a flourish of robes before Hermione had a chance to protest. 

~

That night, after Draco had been released from his eternal detention, Harry met him at the entrance hall and they went for a walk on the grounds instead of eating dinner. They decided to take a break from walking around and found a rock facing the lake that they could both sit on. They started asking each other questions; from the mundane and silly, to trying to figure out what rumors were true when it came to their personal lives. 

Harry gently grasped Draco’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He looked down at their hands and asked, “What is the worst prank you played that wasn’t on me or my friends?”

Draco smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. Most of the worst ones were all reserved for you.”

Harry laughed, “Come on…”

“Alright, but you cannot tell another living soul about this, agreed?”

Harry nodded. He watched the blond in fascination. He still seemed reticent to divulge any personal information, but Harry had to admit he felt a particular sense of satisfaction and pride that he was getting the boy to open up more and more. For the first time since he could remember, he felt like he could trust someone with all that he had. He hadn’t felt like he could really trust someone so quickly since he first met Ron and Hermione in that train compartment all of those years ago. While it was a little scary to feel so strongly, especially for Draco Malfoy of all people, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for being given such an opportunity. 

Draco let out a sigh before he continued with his story, “Okay. Well, a couple of years back, I was angry with my father for destroying my insect collection.” Harry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Draco waved his hand dismissively, “Don’t ask. Anyway, I decided to exact my revenge in a rather ingenious way, if I do say so myself. One evening, after my father had spent hours researching, well…”

“How to resurrect Voldemort?” Harry offered at the Slytherin’s hesitation to say the words aloud. They both knew where Lucius Malfoy’s loyalties lie. 

Draco nodded, “Right. Anyway, my father had fallen asleep in his study and I had decided it would be extremely comical if I, well…” The blond appeared to be mentally reminiscing about the prank, if the smirk on his face was any indication. He continued, “I charmed his hair ginger and used a spell similar to the hives hex, only it produces freckles. When he came out for dinner, my mother lost it. She had fallen over, tears in her eyes, laughing at how bloody Weasley he looked. He thought she’d gone off her rocker. It wasn’t until he called for one of the house elves to bring him a mirror he saw what I had done. He ran to the nearest washroom to clean the ‘blood traitor’ off. It was brilliant.”

Harry laughed. It was rather endearing to see how such a sad prank brought so much joy to Draco. He couldn’t let the boy know he found it sweet, so he asked, “That’s the best you’ve got? Pretty pathetic, Malfoy.”

Draco gently smacked Harry on the arm and gave an indignant huff. “I’ll have you know, it was quite the risk. I would have suffered a myriad of cruel and unusual punishments if I had been caught!”

“And you weren’t?” Harry was genuinely curious. Draco was an only child; it wasn’t like he had younger siblings to blame pranks or naughty behavior on. 

“Thankfully, no. I told father that one of the house elves had done it. It was Dobby’s sister, actually. Mother gave her clothes as punishment and I believe she works here with her brother now.”

Harry stared at Draco for a few moments. He was trying to ignore the fluttering his heart started making at that admission. This was a very confusing version of the spoiled brat who had antagonized him and his friends for the past five years. He didn’t know what to make of it. Draco stared at him, confusion etched into his features. Harry leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the blond’s lips. He pulled away and they shared an almost bashful smile.

Draco squeezed the warm hand holding his own. “My turn: I want you to tell me why you hate Zabini. I know, thanks to yours truly, Slytherins have never been your favorite bunch, but you seemed to have an unfounded aggression towards him at the party. Did he say something awful or is it something more than that?”

Harry broke their hand-holding and turned away, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco grasped the Gryffindor’s shoulders to turn him back, “Come on, don’t shut down on me. I just told you one of my deepest, darkest secrets. I just wanted to know why you hate the twat.”

Harry snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it!”

The Slytherin scowled at the boy’s extreme gear shift in emotions, “There’s no need to get all huffy with me. It was a simple question. This whole ruddy ‘get to know each other’ bit was your idea, remember?” He got up to leave and Harry gently grabbed his wrist to halt him.

“Wait. Sit down. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

When Draco sat down, Harry took a deep breath. “Do you know what I did this past summer?” The blond shook his head. Harry wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t a well-known fact; he only thought Draco might know because of his friendship with Zabini. He let out a sigh before continuing his story, “I worked in London, for this sort of group home. Do you know what happens to muggleborn witches or wizards who are kicked out?”

The blond looked utterly confused. “What do you mean, ‘kicked out’?”

“Some muggles aren’t very tolerant.” Harry started to talk with his hands, “You know how your lot of purebloods don’t like muggleborns because you think they’re contaminating the blood line or whatever rubbish?” When Draco nodded but did not say anything, Harry took it as his cue to continue, “So some muggles feel that way about anything that is different. Some muggles hate other muggles because of their skin color, their religion, their sexual orientation…”

“That’s utterly imbecilic. None of those things affect how good of a wizard or witch you are!” Harry pursed his lips in a disbelieving frown at the Slytherin’s comment. Draco looked chagrined and added lamely, “Like someone’s blood line has no effect on their ability to perform magic…”

The Gryffindor laughed before continuing his story, “Anyway, so included in the things those sorts of muggles hate, anything they don’t understand, which can include magic. I had never thought about it until this year, you know? What happens to magical kids whose parents are intolerant bastards? Hermione had found out about this sort of orphanage or group home that houses all muggleborn witches and wizards who were kicked out of their homes for being different.”

“Can’t those students stay at Hogwarts until they’re of age?”

“I asked that, too. For certain cases, the board of governors for Hogwarts will arrange for a portion of funds to be funneled into an account for supplies and other necessities for the students who can’t afford to go, but that’s usually the muggleborn students who are poor, not the ones that have been disowned. So for the small percentage of kids who have no home and no money, it’s apparently ‘too costly’ to arrange for them to attend Hogwarts.”

Draco had a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “I don’t understand, so what happens to these other kids who learn they’re witches or wizards and their families get rid of them?”

Harry shook his head; his shoulders slumped, silently communicating his resign. “Those kids are provided sanctuary in this group home, they’re given regular meals, somewhere to sleep, and are talked to about what is happening to their bodies. Because they can’t afford to get wands and are not permitted to purposely use their magic, often times they suffer from physical issues or inadvertently cause unwanted incidents when their magic just sort of, comes out.”

Draco nodded, “Like when I accidentally caused one of our house elves to pop when I was five and angry he wouldn’t give me a biscuit.”

“Exactly, except maybe not as demented.” Harry poked his tongue out at the blond. “These kids have to go to regular muggle school, if they choose to go at all. They can never really harness their magic properly without proper teaching, but the home helps these kids the best they can. They’re shown Diagon Alley and various other magical things to help them better understand. It’s run by a woman named Trudy Fairbairn and she is currently working on providing a free young adult magical schooling system so they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives uneducated.”

The shock was apparent on Draco’s face. “I had no idea.”

Harry shrugged, “Most of us more fortunate students don’t. It’s one of the magical world’s best kept secrets. Anyway, after Hermione had sent me the info, I owled the owner and asked if there was anything I could do to volunteer. She was so chuffed that the Chosen One had wanted to do some good; she made me a sort of liaison. I mostly went there to hang out with them, take them on field trips through Diagon Alley, teach them Quidditch, that sort of thing. I liked them all but there was this one young girl, maybe a year younger than me, her name was Pippa. She was so unbelievably kind, despite the fact she had been, quite literally, driven her from her home. When she got her Hogwarts letter her parents shoved her into their car and dropped her off in the middle of the woods to abandon her.”

Draco let out a soft gasp. “How can someone do that to their own child?”

Harry snorted in derision, knowing all too well the evils of man, magical or not. “You’d be surprised, her ‘kicked out story’ was one of the more nice ones. Over the course of the summer, she practically became the sister I never had. We bonded over a love for indie music. She would teach me about the different bands and I would take her out flying.” Harry smiled fondly at the memory. 

The blond gently grasped his hand, re-intertwining their fingers as he shared in Harry’s opening up, a silent offering of support. The Gryffindor looked down at their entwined hands and squeezed as he continued, “One day she came in talking to me at a hundred meters a minute, all excited. She had met this really nice wizard who wanted to take her out on a date. I was honestly pleased for her.” He let out a soft sigh, “But then, things started getting far too serious far too quickly. After a couple of weeks she was talking about marriage, for fuck’s sake! What fifteen year old is thinking about marriage?”

Draco looked as though he wanted to answer the rhetorical question, but Harry shook his head at the boy, “A fifteen year old that doesn’t come from a long lineage of pureblood wizards and witches. Anyway, I was worried and told her I wanted meet the boy to make sure he was being real, you know? Not just using her? She insisted she knew what she was doing, but she did agree to let me meet him. I think she wanted to prove my doubt wrong. The night Pippa took me to meet the amazing wizard who had stolen her heart; it was none other than Blaise fucking Zabini.”

Harry ran his free hand through his messy locks. Silently contemplating what he was about to tell Draco. He hadn’t even told Ron or Hermione what had happened the past summer. He wanted to stop, he wanted to pull away from the blond, and run as far as he could from all of these feelings and whatever was happening between the two of them. As if Draco had read his mind, the blond reached out to gently touch Harry’s chin, tilting his head upward so that their eyes met. “If you don’t want to keep telling me, you really don’t have to.”

Harry felt like his heart had stopped. He leaned forward and kissed the blond; a silent expression of thanks, for understanding, for being kind, for knowing exactly what to say in a difficult situation. When he pulled away he continued, “You know, I didn’t really know Zabini, but I still had a bad feeling about him, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was there. I decided to interfere, hopefully get her a little heartbreak now, as opposed to a lot of heartbreak later. I approached him a few days after she introduced me and I tried to play into his prejudices. I told him she was muggleborn and not even a properly trained witched, but he just shrugged it off. For a fleeting moment I thought that maybe I had been wrong, maybe I was the one being prejudiced, assuming all Slytherins cared about blood purity. That ended the moment when he came to pick up Pippa and as they were leaving; he turned back to me and winked.” Harry scoffed at his memory, “Cocky fucker. After that I tried to warn her, but she wasn’t having any of it. She even slapped me for trying to interfere.”

He rubbed his left cheek, remembering the pain, almost feeling a phantom tingle in his cheek. Pippa had quite the arm; she could have been a beater if she were able to play. He felt Draco’s hand gently caress his shoulders; comfort, concern. All of these words that he was never supposed to associate with the Slytherin. Harry took a deep breath and continued his story, “A couple of weeks later she came to me while I was decorating the group home for one of the boys’ birthdays. She was a mess. Apparently, she was pregnant and when she told Zabini, he laughed in her face and told her ‘Well, I guess my fun is over.’ I don’t think I have ever been so fucking angry. I left to find him, to hex him, to physically beat that fuckhead’s face in ‘til there was nothing left but some blood and hair.” He slammed his now clenched fist against the rock they were sitting on, “I should have taken her to a counselor, or something! I shouldn’t have just run off…”

A tear rolled down Harry’s cheek. Draco lifted his free hand to gently wipe the tear away. Harry looked up at the touch and found absolute empathy in those impossibly gray eyes. He sighed, “That night, Pippa threw herself from the roof of the group home. Thanks to my idiotic need to act first, think later, I never got the chance to tell her I’d help her. I’d help her in every way I could, financially, emotionally, whatever she wanted or needed, I would have been there for her,” he let out a croaked laugh as he tried to stop himself from breaking down. “And that is why I have an unfounded hatred for Zabini.”

Draco sighed, sadness in his body language. He untangled his hand from Harry’s and moved to hug him. They stayed like that for a few minutes before the blond quietly said, “You really aren’t what you seem, Harry.”

Harry was taken aback by the use of his first name. While they had pursued a truce and some weird mimicry of a relationship, they hadn’t quite brought themselves to using each other’s first name. He was glad that Draco was the one to take that next step. While he had wanted to, he didn’t think he was ready to accept what that would mean. He could accept fooling around with the Slytherin, but for it to be something more than that? While Harry may not have felt ready for that, he found he secretly wanted it as he learned more about the boy embracing him. He turned his head and kissed Draco on the cheek, “Neither are you, Draco.”

They held each other for several minutes in companionable silence. Draco pulled away a little and whispered, “Go to the ball with me.”

“What?”

The blond smiled and repeated, “Go to the ball with me.”

Harry shook his head as he said, “No.” His response was firm but without malice or anger. The last thing he wanted to do was attend that joke of an event. Dumbledore had basically told him at the beginning of term that it was expected of him as a symbol to attend and he politely told the old man where he could shove his expectations. 

Draco leaned in closer, “Aww, come on. It will be fun.”

The Gryffindor started to feel the beginnings of his temper flaring up. He stood up and backed away. “I told you ‘no’. I don’t want to go.”

“No one would expect you to go.” The Slytherin almost teased.

Harry narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, closing himself off. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? Why are you pushing this? What’s in it for you?”

Draco scoffed at the accusation and pulled out his packet of cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it, his mouth in a firm scowl. “Nothing’s in it for me, you paranoid git. I just wanted to take you to the Farewell Ball. Merlin forbid someone enjoy your company in a social setting! You really are unbalanced sometimes, you know that, Potter?”

Harry snatched the cigarette from Draco’s lips and threw it into the lake. He ignored the pain he felt at being called by his surname again and stormed off. He was so sick and tired of feeling hurt by people he cared about. It really didn’t make him feel better knowing that Draco Malfoy fell into that category now.

~

Hermione and Ron were studying together in the common room when Harry burst through the portrait hole and stomped up to his dorm. They shared a look of confusion before shrugging it off. After a few minutes of silence, Ron turned to Hermione and asked if she had a spare bit of parchment he could have for his essay.

She let out an angry sigh and slammed the parchment down in front of him. Ron was baffled; he had no idea what he had done to upset her. He gave her a bemused smile, “What’s wrong with you, then?”

Hermione scowled, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a certain someone is as thick as the large print collected works of Charles Dickens?”

Ron felt even more confused. “Hermione, I don’t understand. Are you cross with me?”

She let out a groan of frustration, grabbed her books, and stood to leave, “You’re infuriating, Ronald,” the witch leaned in close to the red head’s face, “Just when, exactly, were you planning on asking me to the Farewell Ball?”

Ron sat there, his mouth agape. It was as though his vocal chords had failed him. Before he had the chance to respond, Hermione stormed out of the common room. He slammed his book shut and said to the empty room, “Bugger.”


	8. Chapter Seven

Two nights before the Farewell Ball, at close to two in the morning, Harry left his dorm room to have a good long think about everything that had happened the few days prior by the warmth of a fire. When he reached the common room he found Ron already sitting in one of the chairs facing the fire, a blank stare on his face. Harry made his way toward his best friend and sat across from him. “Hey.”

Ron looked up and gave his friend an awkward smile as his response. They nodded at each other and the red head returned his attention to the fire.

Harry sighed and joined him in staring at the crackling flames. He figured he could do his thinking in the company of Ron. The two of them sat there for over half an hour, content to share the companionable silence with their nonjudgmental fire. Then Ron interrupted the quiet reverie and asked, “How are things?”

Harry shrugged, “Okay, I guess. How about you?”

“Umm, alright.”

They looked at each other before succumbing to fits of uncontrollable laughter. Ron grasped his side and clutched the arm of his chair as he tried to control his breathing. Harry removed his glasses and wiped the tears spilling from his eyes as his own breathing evened out, “Damn, I needed that.”

Ron nodded his agreement. “So did I.”

Aside from a couple of chuckles, they had managed to compose themselves. Harry was grateful for his best friend in that moment. It had been far too long since the two of them really got to spend any quality time together. That had been mostly Harry’s fault, he couldn’t really fault his friends for not actively seeking him out when most of the time he was a snarky bastard. He gave Ron a sincere smile, which prompted his friend to give him a very serious look.

Ron slightly stammered as he asked, “Is… Is there anything you, ah, you want to tell me, Harry?”

The dark haired boy crinkled his forehead in confusion. He had no idea what his friend was referring to. “Umm, I… No?” His response came out as a question.

“Anything about your, uh, your preferences?”

This line of dialogue was not helping in Harry’s confusion. “Do you mean do I prefer boxers to briefs?” He smiled; his tone slightly sardonic but still denoting his confusion.

“On men, or on women?” 

Harry instantly tensed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to broach this conversation with his best friend, considering he wasn’t so sure himself. He really liked Draco; there was no doubt about that. He liked kissing him and when he thought about going farther than their few make out sessions, his body always responded positively. He hadn’t really liked kissing Cho the previous year, but that wasn’t fair because she was basically crying all over him. But did he prefer men to women? Did he like both? Harry had no idea how to answer that question, not yet anyway.

Ron got up and moved to stand in front of his best friend. He then knelt down so their faces were level, “Harry… It’s… It’s okay, you know? I couldn’t give a fuck about who or what you fancy. You’re my best mate and you always will be. Whatever makes you happy and all that shit. Just, you know, let me know so I can tell Mum to stop pushing Ginny on you.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter. He really had needed this moment with his best friend. “Cheers, mate.”

Ron sat back against his heels, an expectant look on his face. He apparently hadn’t realized what Harry’s comment insinuated. He rolled his eyes and sighed before elaborating, “I’m as queer as a tartan hippogriff.”

The red head smiled and ruffled his friend’s hair, “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Harry slapped the boy’s hand away, the smile never leaving his face, “Piss off.”

Ron feigned astonishment, “That’s no way for a lady to behave!”

“You’re going to regret that, Weasley,” Harry growled as he grabbed a pillow and promptly hit his friend upside the head with it. It knocked the red head over and when he fell to the ground, Harry slid down from the chair to straddle the boy’s legs. 

Ron gasped, “Harry! I’m not that kind of boy!”

“You just haven’t met the right man is all.” Harry gripped his friend’s wrists and pinned him to the ground. He could feel the boy beneath him was getting a little anxious, his body shaking and eyes wide with fear. 

Ron struggled against the boy on top of him. Harry leaned in closer and closer to his friend’s face. “Harry, mate, I wasn’t kidding. I really do fancy women. A lot. A lot a lot.”

Harry smirked and brought his lips really close to Ron’s before asking in the most seductive tone he could muster without laughing outright, “Are you certain?”

The red head nodded profusely, tightening his lips shut. Harry chuckled at the response and pressed his nose to Ron’s before he turned his head slightly to run his tongue up along the boy’s cheek to his temple. He finally released the red head’s wrists and got off of his friend, laughing all the while.

Ron groaned as he sat up and wiped at his cheek with his forearm. “Now I’ve got poof germs!” Harry could not stop laughing even as his friend shoved him, albeit playfully, “Shut up, Harry.”

The darker haired boy feigned a rejected pout, “Aww, Ron. You know there will never be another man for me!”

The red head rolled his eyes. The smile faded from his face and his tone became serious again, “I suppose you’re not going to the Farewell Ball then?”

For the first time since they shared their silly bonding experience, Harry frowned. The thought of the Farewell Ball led to him thinking about Draco, and that was the last thing he wanted on his mind. “No, I’m not. How about you?”

Ron let out a disappointed sounding sigh before he answered, “Hermione’s a little upset with me for not asking her earlier. And then she confronted me about it! After that, I was too bloody scared to actually ask her. She’s probably run off to Blaise Zabini by now.”

Harry scowled at the mention of the Slytherin’s name, the thought disgusting and angering him. He tried to shake it off and focus on the fact that Hermione had not, in fact, done that. “No, I don’t think she did. She told me earlier tonight she’s not going either.”

“Well yeh, of course she isn’t. You’re not.”

He eyed his friend, curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ron shrugged and answered matter-of-factly, “She refuses to date and have fun until you do. You know how Hermione can get when she puts her mind to something. I don’t know, she confuses me; I mean she can be so vapid sometimes, but then sometimes she reverts back to her old self, passionate and brainy. It’s really frustrating, you’re the queer one and I’m the one that’s confused!”

“I thought Seamus was taking the piss. I can’t believe she’s depriving herself just because I’m not interested in that crap.” Harry shook his head in disbelief. He was a little flattered at the gesture, but mostly he felt sad for his friend. 

“That’s just how Hermione is. Ah, well. Maybe next year, eh?”

Harry sat there and chewed on his bottom lip. He looked at his best friend sitting beside him and thought about his other one. The silly witch who was going to great lengths in proving her solidarity with him. She really only wanted him to be happy. He smiled fondly to himself as he remembered all of their years of friendship, the Golden Trio. Harry had begun to get lost in his reverie when Ron tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m going back up to bed.” He commented quietly as he stood up to make his way back to the stairwell of the dorms.

Harry called out, “Hey, Ron?”

The red head turned, “Yeh?”

“We’re going to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

“What?”

Harry smirked at his best friend and shrugged his shoulders, “We’re going to need dress robes.”

~

Every year the extravagance of any of the annual balls was entirely dependent on which professor was in charge of organizing it. Headmaster Dumbledore would use the Sorting Hat to choose which member of the staff would be given the task. The Yule Ball two years prior had been thanks to Professor Flitwick and his rather impeccable taste. Several years prior to that, Professor Snape had been forced to be in charge of a Farewell Ball. He had decorated the Great Hall in all black, hired a couple of tone deaf goblins as the entertainment, and had all of the house elves provide water and slimy vegetables that rather resembled gillyweed, as the refreshments. Professor Snape was forever removed from the responsibility of organizing another ball after that. 

This year, to everyone’s surprise, the Sorting Hat chose Professor Dumbledore. The slightly barmy old wizard couldn’t have been more pleased. He had insisted that his decorations be a surprise to everyone. Not even the other Professors and staff were allowed into the Great Hall before the start of the ball. He had placed some complicated impenetrable charms on the doors. The evening of the Farewell Ball arrived and when Professor Dumbledore finally opened the doors, the other Professors and few punctual students shared a simultaneous gasp.

Dumbledore had wanted a unity theme, using all of the colors from each house. It might have come across as sentimental, had it not been utterly gaudy in its execution. There were banners along all of the walls; the house colors were mixed together, rather resembling a muddy muggle tie-dye. Each table had a different solid colored table cloth with the napkins and plates transfigured into the muddy tie-dye pattern. The floating candles were charmed to have different colored flames. The area where the head table normally was had been replaced with a large stage, tie-dye curtains closing it off. And to top it all off, the refreshments had been catered primarily by Honeyduke’s. 

Professor Dumbledore was extremely pleased with himself. He was well aware that he was absolute crap at interior design. The looks on his colleagues’ faces implied they were very close to developing migraines. The students who entered were united in their amusement over the terrible design, which meant his plan for unity and solidarity was working. He was looking forward to the evening.

~

Seamus was sitting on a couch in the common room. He didn’t feel up to going to the ball, seeing as two of his best mates weren’t going to go. Not to mention, he was having a self-pity fest over the epic failure of his schemes. He was thumbing through an old edition of Seeker Weekly, not really paying attention to it. While he was unfocused on the magazine, he was not paying much attention to the goings on around him either. Everyone else who was going to the ball had already left, so he had the common room to himself. When he heard someone come down the stairs from their dorm, he did not attempt to look up. He assumed it was a random Gryffindor who was running a little late.

He heard the fast footsteps of someone rushing through the common room and towards the portrait hole. Seamus finally looked up when he heard someone say, 

“See you later, Seamus. I’m going to the Farewell Ball.” 

He turned to look up and saw Harry dressed in dark blue dress robes with suede shoes to match. He had used something to give his disobedient hair a sophisticated messy look. He’d even transfigured the frames of his glasses to match the color of his robes. Seamus had to admit, the boy looked absolutely smashing. He returned his attention to the magazine, assuming he was taking the piss and casually commented, “Funny, ‘Arry.”

When the portrait door slammed shut, Seamus looked up to find the common room empty again. That is when he heard more footsteps coming down from both dorms. Hermione descended from the girls’ dorm and he had to stifle a gasp. She looked even more stunning than she had two years prior. She was dressed in a gorgeous lavender gown, her makeup natural and modest, with her hair pinned up in an elegant yet messy bun. Seamus turned to the boys’ dorm side and saw Ron standing there with a goofy smile on his face. The red head was wearing a pair of smart dress robes, black with light grey pinstripes. Seamus was impressed. “What are ya’ up ta’?”

Hermione approached Ron and looped her arm through his. She smiled sweetly at the Irish boy before she replied, “We’re going to the Farewell Ball.”

Seamus shut his magazine and looked to Ron, “Since when?”

The red head shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Since about eight yesterday morning?” His response coming out as more of a question.

The Irish boy barked out a short laugh and nodded to silently indicate he was impressed. “Ta’! ‘ave a good time!”

Hermione frowned, “Aren’t you going to the ball, Seamus?”

He shook his head, “I was under the impression dat me lads weren’t going ta’ go, so I decided ter miss out, ya’ know, be supportive an’ shite. So, I never bought a pair of dress robes.”

Ron chuckled, approached his friend, and clapped him on the back. “Your dress robes are on your bed, we’ll see you there.” He turned back to Hermione and held his arm out like a gentleman. He escorted her out of the portrait hole.

Seamus grinned arrogantly and said to the empty room, “I am brilliant!”

~

Draco was standing in front of the Great Hall entrance, nervously fussing with a white carnation in his hand. The blond was wearing deep burgundy dress robes with golden accents, a pair of cream colored spats to match, and his hair slicked and parted in a style reminiscent of the 1920’s muggle fashion. When Harry had owled him the day prior to meet him in front of the Great Hall in his best dress robes, his heart hammered with excitement, before panic set in to find something to wear. He was surprised how far the two of them had come. What started out as a stupid challenge to earn some spending money had morphed into something entirely different. His romantic feelings for Harry aside, this ordeal had made him realize what it is he wanted out of this world and the impending war. 

After his spat with Harry over the ball, he had gone right to the headmaster and told him what he had been through the past summer. He told the old man that he had every intention of pledging his loyalty to the side of light and wanted to help out in any way he could when the time would come. Dumbledore had been so pleased; he offered protection for him and his mother. What a surprise that was going to be for Harry to see Draco as one of the new residents of Grimmauld Place in the summer. He had been perfectly happy to try and remain neutral, until Harry gave him something to care about.

Draco’s silent reverie was interrupted with the appearance of said Gryffindor. He stifled a quiet gasp when he finally saw Harry. He couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to see something more than just a scar. As Harry came down the staircase, Draco smiled fondly at him. He approached his date and offered him the carnation as he bowed his head.

Harry laughed before graciously accepting the flower. He pinned it to his robe and looked Draco up and down. He nodded his head, seemingly in approval, “Gryffindor colors look surprisingly good on you.”

The blond shrugged, “Well, you didn’t really give me enough time to find something more dapper. I had to settle for what I had in my trunk.”

Harry quirked his brow and asked, “This was something you had lying around?”

Draco nodded, as though that were the most normal thing in the world, to have fancy dress clothes with you in case the need arise. Harry shook his head in disbelief, an amazed smile on his face. 

They stood at the bottom of the stairs for a couple of minutes, neither of them sure of what to say next. The Gryffindor took a deep breath before he apologized to Draco. “I’m sorry I impugned your motives.”

The blond smiled, “As you should be. Apology accepted.”

Harry let out a relieved chuckled and moved to ruffle his hand through his hair before stopping himself so he wouldn’t mess it up. 

Draco offered his cocked elbow to the Gryffindor, “Ready?”

He took the Slytherin’s arm, visibly relaxing, “As I’ll ever be…”

~

The two boys stood there, absolute shock painted on each of their faces as they both took a look around. Harry was convinced that the decorations were the ugliest things he had ever seen. The appalled look on Draco’s face was a clear indication that he felt the same way. Harry shook his head and laughed, “The Headmaster has really outdone himself this time.” He looked at the blond who nodded dumbly. The Gryffindor laughed and pulled Draco forward towards a refreshments table off to the side of the Great Hall. 

Harry looked over all of the refreshments. Every single item served was sweet; from every type of candy from Honeydukes, to a plethora of pastries and sweet breads that were probably made by the house elves. There was some bright pink stuff that appeared to resemble punch. He decided to brave it. After a tentative sip he found he was pleasantly surprised. He expected it to be sickeningly sweet, but it had enough of a tart tang to make it rather tasty. “Not bad. Tastes like a tart watermelon.”

Draco still eyed the liquid skeptically and pinched his nose has he took a sip. He nodded his approval of the flavor at Harry. Draco then turned around to lean his back against the table and looked at all of the other students. The majority of them were dancing, but there were a few stragglers sitting at tables talking. The blond grabbed Harry’s cup and placed it on the table, “Come on, let’s dance.”

Harry looked up towards the stage. The band was a Weird Sisters cover band and if they weren’t, they only appeared to know how to play Weird Sisters songs. He let out a sigh and asked, “Do I have to? This band is total crap.”

Draco quirked his brow in a challenging way and replied, “Where’s this Gryffindor bravery I keep hearing about? It’s a school ball; the music has to suck! I think it’s a law, actually, so why don’t we at least try to make the most of it?”

Before Harry could argue, Draco had dragged him onto the dance floor. They started dancing, although it was more like jumping around. After a couple of songs, Harry reluctantly admitted to himself he was having a good time. In between his bouts of jumps he looked around at all of the other students. When he saw Ron and Hermione dancing together he smiled fondly at them. Ron grinned and gave a thumbs-up gesture to his friend, while Hermione waved at him. 

Harry chuckled when he caught Seamus flailing all over the place. It appeared as though the Irish boy was attempting to start a mosh pit, slamming into random students. No one was buying into it and the students he rammed into were brushing it off. The only person who seemed receptive was Luna, as she shoved the boy back with just as much fervor. Seamus smiled at her and the pair of them embarked in a two person mosh pit.

~

After several songs and minutes of dancing, Draco and Harry separated. Harry went over to where Weasley and Granger were hanging out, so Draco chose to get some water. On his way to the refreshment table, he bumped into Pansy. She had chosen to attend the ball wearing dress robes instead of a gown. He laughed at the absolute shock on her face at seeing him. 

Pansy quirked an eyebrow at her friend and asked, “Who are you here with, then?”

Draco pointed to where Harry was among the crowd, who had again abandoned his friends to jump around, seemingly off in his own little world. Pansy frowned at Draco and shook her head, disappointment cloaking her features. He tugged at her sleeve and pointed a little further down from Harry, where Weasley and Granger were dancing together.

The disappointed look instantly morphed into a smile and she nodded in approval. “Good on you.”

Draco smirked, secretly bristling over the very subtle compliment and approval from his best friend. He looked around to see who was nearby, trying to figure out if she had come with anyone. Finally he asked, “And who are you here with?”

Pansy appeared nervous and started to fidget with the sleeve of her robe. She looked down, averting Draco’s gaze and stuttered out an ineloquent, “Uh, I… I, uh…”

Before the witch could give any sort of an answer, Ginny Weasley appeared to have come out of nowhere and embraced Pansy from behind. “I thought you were getting some punch? I almost got caught in the Seamus-Luna debacle trying to find you.”

Pansy’s face turned as red as her, quite obviously, date’s hair. She grasped Ginny’s hand and pulled her forward. Pansy gave her best friend an imploring look before she asked, “Have you met my girlfriend, Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes widened, he was completely shocked. Not over the fact that Pansy and the Weaslette had found love, but more so because she was being so open about it. Just like his endeavor to convince Harry to date him had practically isolated him from the rest of his house, not that he really cared now that he had chosen to fight on the side of light. Dating a Weasley would be just as damaging to a Slytherin’s reputation and he had never realized that his best friend was capable of not caring what the rest of her house thinks of her. He watched as the red head held onto her girlfriend, in a rather defensive stance as if ready to attack him if he said anything to upset Pansy. Draco had to admit, the pair of them looked good together and who was he to begrudge his best friend any happiness? He gave the pair of them a reassuring smile and said, “I believe I have. You look very nice tonight, Weasley.”

The Weaslette smiled sweetly and replied, “So do you, Malfoy,” she then turned to her girlfriend, “I’m going to bump into some other people, if you can’t find me, I’ll meet you by the punchbowl?”

Pansy nodded and they shared a quick kiss. Draco stood there, biting his tongue to stop the wave of giggles just aching to burst out of him. She glared at him, “Shut your gob. I’m not going to defend my choice of girlfriend to YOU.”

The blond smiled and hugged his best friend for the first time in years. As he held her he whispered into her ear, “I’m happy for you, Pans.”

Pansy stared at him for a minute, her mouth agape, before she shook her head and leaned forward to kiss her best friend on the cheek. “You really have changed, haven’t you, Draco?” She remarked in an amazed tone.

Draco gave her a very un-Malfoyish grin and winked. They shared a laugh and he pulled her back out onto the dance floor. The two of them proceeded to dance for the together first time since fourth year.

~

Blaise Zabini was dressed impeccably in traditional black dress robes. His hair was perfectly coifed and he donned his cocky smirk as he walked towards the portrait of the Fat Lady to pick up Hermione. He looked at the woman in the portrait, who was singing off-key to a neighboring portrait. He cleared his throat and stated imperiously, “I’m here to escort Ms. Granger to the Farewell Ball.”

The fat lady snorted as she picked up a goblet of wine, “You’re a little late for that, dearie.”

The Slytherin let out an aggravated sigh and asked, “What do you mean?”

The fat lady took a long gulp from the goblet and hiccupped. This caused her to fall into a fit of drunken giggles, which caused her to stutter out her reply, “She… She’s been there… Ms. Granger left over half… half an hour ago.” 

Blaise scowled and stormed off, having to resist the urge to set fire to the obnoxious, giggling portrait.

~

Hermione had left to use the girl’s washroom. She was fixing her hair in the mirror when she watched Pansy approach her from behind in the reflection.

“How’s it going, Granger?”

Hermione scowled and replied tersely, “Fine.”

The Slytherin sighed and ran her hand through her hair. She moved to stand next to the Gryffindor and pulled her to turn and look her in the face. “Look, I know you’re not fond of me, but I wanted to talk to you.”

Hermione had to refrain from scoffing. “I really don’t see the point of that…”

“You will after Blaise comes in tonight and makes a scene.”

She turned and stared at the black haired girl in bemusement. She wasn’t in the mood for cryptic nonsense. “What are you talking about?”

Pansy gave her an earnest look and asked, “Are you willing to listen to me?”

Hermione nodded. She didn’t know why, maybe it was because of the fact that her best friend and her boyfriend’s sister were dating two Slytherins, but she felt the inclination to hear the witch out. She listened attentively as Pansy started from the beginning.

~

Draco and Harry had found their way back to each other. Harry’s eyes were as alive as they had been that night at the Red Lion. Draco couldn’t think of anything that was half as beautiful as the fire in those impossibly green eyes. He grabbed Harry’s hand and twirled him. “Having fun?” He yelled to be heard over the music.

Harry was smiling and nodded, “I am, actually.”

At that moment, the band stopped and there was some rustling. The both of them paused to catch their breaths when a familiar chord of a familiar song started playing. Draco smirked knowingly as he watched the Gryffindor’s eyes widen with realization. 

Harry looked up at the stage and Draco smiled at the awed and excited smile on the boy’s face as Pete Shelley, the lead singer of the Buzzcocks, stood there with guitar in hand. The musician smiled and gave a small wave to Harry and Draco before he started singing,   
“You spurn my natural emotions  
You make me feel like dirt  
And I'm hurt  
And if I start a commotion  
I run the risk of losing you  
And that's worse

“Ever fallen in love with someone  
Ever fallen in love  
In love with someone  
Ever fallen in love  
In love with someone  
You shouldn't've fallen in love with?”

Harry’s mouth was agape. He stood there motionless just staring at the stage before he finally turned to Draco and asked, “How?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and casually replied, “I called in a favor.”

The Gryffindor smiled and jumped forward to pull him into a hug. The hug lingered before slowly turning into a slow dance. Harry looked up into Draco’s eyes and mouthed a silent, ‘Thank you’.

Draco replied with a silent, ‘You’re welcome’ and he leaned in to kiss Harry. It was an innocently short kiss, and when they pulled apart, the Gryffindor leaned his head against the Slytherin’s shoulder as they continued to slow dance to the impossibly upbeat song.

~

Seamus looked up towards the entrance just by chance when he saw Blaise Zabini walk in, looking absolutely livid. He grasped Luna’s hand and told her he would be right back. 

Ron was off to the side, chatting with one of the Creevy brothers at a table. He ran up to his friend and tapped him on the shoulder. When Ron turned, Seamus pointed in the direction Blaise was. “As the muggles say, I t’ink the shit ‘as hit the fan.” They watched as the black boy approached Draco and Harry. Seamus shivered from the anticipated fallout. This was going to end badly.

~

Harry and Draco had parted slightly to dance among the group of students who were really enjoying the muggle music. They occasionally smiled knowingly at each other.

Blaise pushed himself through the crowd and when he reached Draco, he yanked the boy’s sleeve and hissed, “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Draco shoved Blaise off of him. “Piss off, Zabini.”

The black boy scowled and yelled, “I didn’t pay you to take out Potter so Weasley can shag Granger!”

Harry looked up with all of the surrounding strangers. The look on his face was filled with pain and shock. Draco stared into Harry’s eyes, the guilt evident on his face. He had no excuse; he had accepted Blaise’s money to take The Gryffindor out. He didn’t even know what to say, how do you tell someone with trust issues that what he just heard was true? And then how would you convince him that your feelings for him are real? 

Harry frowned at him, a look of disgust on his face. “Nothing in it for you?” He slammed his shoulder into the blond as he ran out of the Great Hall. 

Draco shoved Blaise away and followed Harry.

~ 

After Seamus watched the fallout, he approached Zabini in the hopes of deescalating the situation. As he got closer to the seething Slytherin he called out, “Zabini! I can explain…”

The Slytherin pushed the Irish boy so hard he fell to the floor. Ron was shortly behind his friend and rolled his eyes at Zabini before he moved to help Seamus up. As the red head was bent forward, Zabini yanked him up by his collar and punched him in the cheek. Not expecting the strike, Ron fell to the ground, grasping the side of his face in pain.

He was honestly shocked that a snooty Slytherin pureblood even knew how to fist fight. Before he could get up to retaliate, Hermione came up behind Zabini and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, she punched him dead in the face. There was a sickening crack.

Zabini grasped his, now bloody, nose and cried out in muffled anguish, “Fuck! Hermione, what was that for?!”

“That was for Harry!” She pulled him up and punched him again, “That was for Ron!” And then she pulled his hunched form close to knee the boy in his bollocks, “And that was for me!”

Hermione pushed the Slytherin and he fell to the floor, letting out undignified groans of pain. Everyone who had been watching the spectacle went back to enjoying themselves. Hermione turned to Ron and helped him up. She smiled and asked, “Are you all right?”

The red head looked at her in amazement. He shook his head in a daze and all he could manage was a soft, “Wow…”

Hermione smiled sweetly at Ron, her eyes lit up in bemusement. She shrugged her shoulders in a silent question and asked, “What?”

He grinned. “No matter what, it’s bloody brilliant when you punch a Slytherin.”

Hermione giggled, silently thanking him for the compliment by leaning forward to kiss him.

~

Draco had caught up to Harry halfway up a stairwell leading to the Gryffindor dorms and grasped the boy’s robe sleeve to turn him around. He called out, “Harry, please let me explain!”

Harry yanked his sleeve from the blond’s grasp, almost causing both of them to topple over. He stepped away from Draco and moved to the landing so he wasn’t standing precariously on a step. The Slytherin followed and when he moved closer to Harry, the Gryffindor stepped back. “Explain what? Explain how this was all what? A joke? A trick? Explain how you were fucking BRIBED to ask me out? And not only that, you were bribed by the ONE person in this school I absolutely hate with everything I have. Go on then, fucking explain yourself.”

“No, I… It was like that at first, but then… Then I…”

Harry cut him off, “Save it! I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit!”

Draco visibly flinched and with that Harry turned to leave. He felt himself trembling as hurt and anger bubbled through him. He moved to start up the next flight of stairs when he was pulled back by the blond. Draco pulled him forward into an unreciprocated kiss. Harry shoved the blond away and stared at him in disgust. “Don’t you fucking touch me again, Malfoy!”

~

Draco sighed sadly as he watched Harry storm up the stairs and disappear behind a portrait. He stood there dumbly, not sure what to do. How could he have fucked up this badly? He should have told Harry what was going on. He silently mused over all of the mistakes he had made when he felt someone grasp his shoulder. He turned to see Weasley standing there, concern etched into his features. 

“What happened?” The red head asked softly.

“What do you think happened? Everyone in that bloody room heard Zabini.”

Weasley nodded. After a moment of apparent thought, he asked, “I suppose he didn’t let you explain?”

Draco let out a mirthless chuckle and shook his head. “I think I’m lucky my bollocks are still attached.”

The Gryffindor smiled half-heartedly before commenting, “Yeh, unlike Zabini.”

Draco eyed him curiously and Weasley went on to explain how Granger had beat the pulp out of Blaise. They shared a laugh over the prick’s deserved misfortune. The blond smirked. “That’s quite some woman, Weasley. I think I can see why almost all of the boys in this school were after her.”

“Yeh…” He replied almost dreamily. Weasley then shook his head as if to remember that his best friend had probably had his trust irreparably damaged. He glanced up to the portrait hole. “Reckon he’s destroying everything he owns?”

Draco nodded.

“Ah, well. Like before, he’ll just need some time to cool down.”

The Slytherin scoffed. “No, Weasley. Not this time.” If only finding out the person you were possibly falling in love with had been hired by someone you hated was something that time could heal. It would not matter that he felt the same way; that he was starting to fall in love with the Gryffindor. Draco sighed. He was pretty much fucked. 

“Why?” The question was sincere, no hint of sarcasm or anger. Weasley honestly couldn’t fathom why Harry couldn’t just get over it. 

Draco let out another sigh and answered in a tired and almost forlorn tone, “Because, there’s a huge difference between humiliation and heartbreak…”


	9. Chapter Eight

Five days after the epic end of year fiasco, also known as the Farewell Ball, Seamus was sitting by a window in the common room, watching Harry fly in tandem loops around the Quidditch pitch. When the boy landed and started to head towards the broom shed, Seamus grabbed the omnioculars beside him and watched through them intently. Despite the volatile and extreme gear shifts in moods his friend had had since they first knew each other, he had never seen Harry look so utterly defeated before.

Ron and Hermione walked in together holding hands and approached the Irish boy. Hermione gently tapped his shoulder to get his attention and asked, “Have you noticed any change?”

Seamus shook his head and replied sadly, “No.”

Ron sighed and took the omnioculars from Seamus. After a few minutes of silently watching he let out a mirthless chuckle. “Who would have thought I’d have preferred his anger to this?”

Hermione nodded, “There’s got to be a way to fix this, some sort of potion, or spell, or something,” her tone was slightly hopeful yet entirely unconfident.

Seamus sighed, “I don’t t’ink magic can fix this one, ‘Ermione…” 

~

Ron watched Draco walk alone into Potions. He’d only just come to terms with the fact that he could think of the Slytherin on a first name basis and now he wasn’t sure where they stood. Draco looked just as defeated as Harry, at least when he thought no one was looking, otherwise the blond wore his cool façade. After class had ended Ron decided to approach the Slytherin. He grasped the boy’s sleeve to pull him around a corner so they could have some privacy. “Have you spoken to him?”

Draco stared at the Gryffindor for a couple of moments before sighing and pulling open the collar of his shirt. There was a nasty set of pustule filled boils shaped in the word ‘Liar’ across the upper part of his chest. He started re-buttoning his shirt and blandly answered, “All I said to him was ‘I’m sorry’. I didn’t know he could perform non-verbal magic.”

Ron gave the boy a sympathetic smile. He stayed silent for a moment and looked from Draco to the stairs to make sure no one was within earshot. He let out a breath, “Fuck, Malfoy. We really did a number on Harry.”

Draco nodded, his appearance of defeat and sadness not being hidden for once. The blond shrugged and started to walk away. 

The redhead grabbed his arm to halt him, “Hang on, Malfoy. I want to ask you something.”

He just stared at Ron with an arched brow, silently giving the boy permission to go ahead and ask.

“Is he worth it?”

Draco scrunched his brow in confusion, “What?”

Ron smiled and repeated, “Is Harry worth it?”

Draco chuckled, nodding in understanding. “Of course he is.”

The Gryffindor let go of the boy’s arm and proclaimed, “Then you have to ruddy well fight for him!”

The Slytherin shook his head and sighed, “My dear, Weasley. This isn’t a competition against a poorly qualified opponent for Harry’s affections. There’s no easy fix for this. You can’t unmake a betrayal.” Draco started walking away.

Ron called out to the retreating back of the Slytherin when he realized that he wasn’t going in the direction of hospital wing, “Hey! Aren’t you going to see Madame Pomfrey about those boils?”

Draco stopped, turned around, and shook his head. “No. Not now at least, I think I could use the reminder for a bit.”

~

Harry refused to talk to anyone. He was behaving just as anti-social as he had been before, only this time, he appeared to have lost his desire to fight or argue. He obeyed every task a professor asked of him and took in stride any rude comments or actions made by other students. Professor Burbage was worried. She had gotten used to the combative nature of one of her; she had to admit, favorite students. The obedience was more disturbing than his anger. 

She had arranged for the students to have one more dress rehearsal before the performance that would happen in Hogsmeade the following night. Whenever she would suggest Harry recite his lines a certain way, the boy would do it. When she showed him the newly made dress he would wear for the final scene, he shrugged and told her it was nice. Something had broken this poor child and she started to feel bad about making him do this. Unfortunately, because everything had been arranged and paid for, she could not pull the plug from the performance. Harry had no understudy and she had convinced the Headmaster to charge and donate all of the proceeds to help fund a new ward at St. Mungo’s.

Professor Burbage had to admit that Harry had never performed better, but she wasn’t completely stupid. She could sense the tension between the two main actors. She only hoped it would resolve before the play, because, frankly, it is not a teacher’s place to interfere with students’ personal lives.

~

When Draco had arrived to the Three Broomsticks the following night, the pub had been converted into a giant theatre, likely with Madame Rosmerta’s permission. It was gorgeous and open, reminiscent of the Globe Theatre in muggle London. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had been the ones to charm and transfigure the pub into a grand amphitheater. If it had been the Headmaster, the god-awful tie dye tartan curtains would have made their return, and more than likely, everyone would be sitting in ugly multi-colored beanbag chairs. 

Draco got backstage with the rest of the students and marveled at the madness unfolding behind the curtains. Students were running back and forth trying to perfect their costumes, or pacing while reciting their lines. There was a nervous, yet excited energy in the air. Draco found that he was quite looking forward to performing in such a way. He had never had the opportunity to pursue any sort of performing arts and found the more he dabbled, the more he enjoyed it. The only thing that was putting a damper on the experience was the deep ache in his chest over what had happened between him and Harry. Well, more like what he did to Harry.

After he got dressed in his costume, Draco noticed Harry on stage right, peaking through the curtains. He found he was mesmerized watching the Gryffindor tremble with anticipation as he peaked, likely just as excited as the rest of them to do something so exhilarating in front of hundreds of people. When Harry turned around, he made eye contact with Draco. The blond gave him a small smile, but all he received in return was a frown before the bespectacled boy walked away.

Draco let out a sigh and ruffled a hand through his hair. It was going to be a very long night.

~

The play had been going very well, to Professor Burbage’s absolute delight. Even Ron had managed to overcome his fear of performing and had given a quite decent performance as Mercutio. She had a feeling his sudden bout of confidence in his acting ability had more to do with the enthusiastic brunette sitting in the front row.

The climactic death scene was soon approaching. Professor Burbage approached Harry; he had come upstage behind the wall partitions to change his costume. She tapped her student on the shoulder and softly asked, “Are you ready, Mr. Potter?”

He shrugged without turning to look at her, “I suppose so, yeh.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded. Harry started to walk towards stage right in preparation for the next scene. Against her better judgment, she grasped the boy’s arm to halt him, “Mr. Potter, wait.”

Harry eyed her curiously and asked, “Yes, Professor?”

“Harry, I know it isn’t really my place but,” She looked in the direction of Draco, then leaned in close and whispered, “Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, it does not mean that they don't love you with all they've got.”

Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly open. He appeared unsure of what to say or how to say it. Before he could respond, Professor Burbage turned away. “You better get ready, Mr. Potter. It’s almost time,” she called out as she disappeared offstage.

~

“Ah, dear Juliet,  
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe  
That unsubstantial death is amorous,  
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps  
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?  
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;  
And never from this palace of dim night  
Depart again: here, here will I remain  
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here  
Will I set up my everlasting rest,  
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars  
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!  
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you  
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss  
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!  
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide!  
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on  
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!  
Here's to my love!”

Draco pulled a small vial from his breast pocket and drank from it, “O true apothecary!  
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.”

He sat on the table where Harry lay and stroked his face gently. Harry felt himself getting antsy at the lack of movement. He slightly opened his eyes to look at the boy who was delaying their scene. Draco appeared wistful and seemingly hesitant about sharing a kiss with him. Harry was trying to silently communicate to the blond that he needed to get the kiss over with when he heard their Professor hiss at them. Finally Draco kissed Harry; a soft kiss that lingered a little longer than necessary. Harry hoped that Draco could not hear how his heart hammered in his chest. He had to refrain from letting out a relieved sigh when the blond turned over to finish his death scene.

Harry tried to quell the intense pattering of his heart when he felt Draco lay beside him. He made himself recall the Farewell Ball to feel the dull ache make its return. That pain started to cause his heart to hurt so he tried to change his train of thought, and that’s when what Professor Burbage had said to him earlier started playing over and over in a mental loop. Ernie MacMillan, who was playing the Friar, had come on stage. Harry was so distracted by all of the conflicting emotions that were coursing through him physically and mentally that he almost missed his cue.

Ernie was hovering over Draco as he cried out, “Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too?  
And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour  
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!  
The lady stirs.”

Harry sat up, “O comfortable friar! Where is my lord?  
I do remember well where I should be,  
And there I am. Where is my Romeo?”

One of the students made some noise offstage. Ernie turned his head in that direction, “I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest  
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:  
A greater power than we can contradict  
Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.  
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;  
And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee  
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:  
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;  
Come, go, good Juliet,” The noise offstage was made again, “I dare no longer stay.”

Harry turned towards where Draco lay. The tears came with surprising ease, “Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.”

Ernie bowed his head and left the stage.

“What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?  
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:  
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop  
To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;  
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,  
To make die with a restorative.”

Harry leaned forward to kiss Draco and hesitated. He hovered over the blond. He had an understanding in that moment why Draco had wavered earlier. As he stared at the blond, looking quite angelic as he feigned death, Harry felt a wave of unrelenting pain wash over him. Kissing this boy, even in a play, was heart breaking because he wanted it to be real. He didn’t want to pretend, he didn’t want to let go of something that had made him feel alive for the first time since Sirius’ death. 

Draco kept his eyes closed and whispered through the side of his mouth, “I know you hate me, Harry, but the sooner you do this, the sooner it will all be over.”

Harry shook his head, in a very subtle way. He had to refrain from scoffing at the Slytherin. Draco must have assumed that Harry’s reticence was because of hatred. If the boy only knew. Harry whispered back, “I don’t hate you, Draco. That’s the problem.” He finally bent forward to press a soft kiss to the boy’s unmoving lips, “Thy lips are warm.”

Another noise was made offstage and the next line was shouted by someone who sounded suspiciously like Ron, “Which way?”

Harry looked in the direction of the voice, “Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!” He pulled the false dagger from Draco’s belt, “This is thy sheath,” Harry sat there holding the dagger for several moments. He could have sworn he heard his Professor’s exasperated sigh at his lack of movement. The Gryffindor looked down at Draco’s still form and let out a sad sigh.

He got up from the table and placed the dagger down upon it. This time he knew it was Professor Burbage’s voice from offstage when he heard the witch whisper, “What, in Merlin, do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?” 

Harry ignored her and walked around to face Draco, “My dear, Romeo. Who would have ever known that heartache was a literal term? I fear, my love, that you have brought this upon yourself. If only you had attempted to owl… Er, write me, as opposed to leaving me to the mercy of my family. If only you had taken responsibility for your participation in the cruelty imparted upon me. Perhaps then our destinies would not have been altered to these extents.”

He kissed the blond on the cheek, “I will not follow you. Your lack of contact made me think you did not care. When I needed you most, you were away. I know the circumstances would not allow you to stay, but if you had truly loved me, you would have come back for me before you heard of my death.”

Draco turned his head as carefully as he could to stare at the Gryffindor. Harry could tell he understood what he was saying to the blond. ‘You should have followed me further. You should have made more of an effort. You should have told me how you truly felt.’ Harry kept his eye contact with the blond as he continued to change the outcome of a several century old play.

“You made me love you and then you made me doubt that love. My heart is broken for you and because of you. But, at last, I am free to take charge of my path. I have learned, I shall never be so careless with my heart again. Farewell, my love.” Harry walked off stage and the audience went into an uproar. There were several cheers, mostly from the female members, and a lot of confused whispers.

As Harry exited stage right, Professor Burbage grabbed his arm, looking very much like an angry goldfish. She hissed, “You just changed the ending of the most well-known and classic tragic love story of all time, Mr. Potter!”

Harry shrugged her off of his arm, in a gentle and unremorseful manner. “I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t know what came over me.” He had to refrain from smiling; he wasn’t even the least bit sorry.

The witch shook her head, more in amazed disbelief than actual anger. “I can’t believe you’ve done that! We’ve worked so hard throughout the year for tonight!”

Harry looked down, at this he felt slightly ashamed. He knew the witch had put in a lot of work and free time to make this as legitimate of a production as she could. He also knew this performance was being used to help raise money for St. Mungo’s. “I know! I’m sorry, I felt… I had to go with what felt right.” After a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence, he could no longer take her unending stare and asked, “How many weeks of detentions has this earned me?”

The witch eyed the boy for several moments before chuckling, “None, Mr. Potter.”

He looked at her, the confusion evident on his face. Surely he must have earned at least one detention? And to magnify his confusion even further, she patted him on the head and smiled. 

Professor Burbage made to leave, but turned back to the flabbergasted boy and said, “But next time, Mr. Potter. Do at least TRY to make that speech sound Shakespearian…”

~

After the show had ended and the applause had died down, almost everyone Harry came into contact with praised him for his performance and re-writing of literature. Although he was grateful his spontaneous script change had been well received, he could only smile half-heartedly at all of the praise. He wanted nothing more than to leave, get away from all of the suffocating people and talking. The opportunity to flee from the room appeared to grow dimmer and dimmer by the minute. 

To make matters worse, Draco kept making attempts at approaching him, which he was only narrowly escaping. Harry felt himself getting more and more frustrated by the minute. He wanted to get out of the bloody dress, put on a pair of trousers, and go flying to clear his head.

He ran into Ron in all of the hustle and grasped his arm to pull him aside, “Ron, I really need to get out of here, please, can you go keep Draco busy?”

~

Ron knew better than to question his friend when he was in this sort of state. If Harry got anymore agitated, windows and furniture would probably start shattering. He nodded dumbly to his best friend and helped the boy sneak out of the amphitheater. Seeing as that had been the first thing Harry had said to him in over two weeks, he could not possibly refuse. After Harry was successfully outside of the building, he went to find Draco.

The search was not long when he bumped into the blond just near the front of the stage. Draco gave him a smile and started to look around, “Hi, Weasley, have you seen Harry?”

Ron didn’t see the point of beating around the bush and answered, “He’s avoiding you, Malfoy.”

The Slytherin rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, “I don’t care. I need to talk to him.”

“Maybe you should just leave it be. Harry is obviously trying to do the same.”

Draco scoffed, “That, my dear Weasley, is where you are wrong.”

~

Harry released a long held breath, feeling grateful as he deeply inhaled the cold night air. He approached the broom shed. As the new Quidditch captain he had enforced a rule that all of the Gryffindors keep their brooms in the shed as a way to help prevent jealousy among other players and teams. It didn’t really work, but he had been firm about it none the less.

Harry cast Lumos to help him search through the shed for his firebolt. As he looked around, he found an item that had no place being in a dusty little broom shed. It was a Vintage Les Paul guitar. The Gryffindor gasped and picked it up very carefully. He examined it, loving the way it felt in his hands. The guitar was absolutely gorgeous; a dark almost honey color, in perfect condition. Harry felt like a child at Christmas. He was so immersed in his exploration of the newly found treasure he jumped when a voice interrupted him, 

“You like it?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he made eye contact with Draco. Draco had bought this for him? How could he have possibly known he had always wanted this particular guitar? He had a million questions for the Slytherin but the only one he managed to verbalize was, “It’s for me?”

Draco smiled, “Of course.”

The Gryffindor shook his head in disbelief, “This is so expensive, even for rich wizards! Why would you do that?”

“Well, I just so happened to have earned quite a bit of extra money.”

Harry smiled knowingly and feigned curiosity. “Is that right?”

Draco fidgeted with his hands, but refused to break eye contact with Harry. He took a deep breath and said, “Yes. You see, this absolute prick paid me a lot of money to take out a really great wizard.”

“Did he now?” Harry chuckled, although there was a hint of sadness in his tone.

The blond nodded and approached Harry. He took the guitar out of the Gryffindor’s hands and set it down gently. He stepped closer to Harry and grasped the boy’s hand, “Yeh, but I fucked up, you see?”

Harry looked down at their entwined hands and turned to look in Draco’s eyes again. He breathed out a barely audible, “How?”

The Slytherin used his free hand to gently grasp Harry’s chin, never breaking eye contact and casually answered, “I fell for him.”

Harry eyed the boy for a few moments before breaking into a hesitant smile. He wanted to ask so many questions and all he was able to manage was a soft and entirely sincere, “Really?”

Draco nodded and leaned forward, “It’s not every day you meet someone who will make out with a Professor to get you out of detention.”

The Gryffindor groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, letting the humiliation of that memory wash over him. 

The Slytherin laughed, pulled Harry’s hands away, leaned in, and pressed his lips against the boy’s. When he realized Harry wasn’t going to fight against him, he wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor’s waist and pressed forward to deepen the kiss. Their kiss was equally tender as it was almost animalistic, losing themselves in the sensation of two pairs of lips dealing with a two week absence. 

Harry pulled his face away to interrupt the make out session. He smiled at the pout the blond gave him and said, “You know you can’t buy me a guitar every time you fuck up, right?”

Draco pushed his forehead against Harry’s and let out a solemn sigh, sounding very much like he understood as he answered, “I know.” The blond appeared serious for a few moments before he smirked, “But there’s always bass, drums, and maybe even one day, a tambourine.” He leaned in to kiss Harry again.

Harry pulled back again and continued, “And don’t think just because…”

Draco cut him off with an insistent kiss. Harry let out a soft moan of surprise and decided, having the last word wasn’t really all that important. 

~

The next day, everyone in Gryffindor was shocked into silence when Harry turned to one of the Creevy brothers and asked him to pass the salt. Harry laughed at everyone’s gobsmacked expressions and leaned across the table to grab it himself. There was a sudden din of heated whispers throughout the entire Great Hall, particularly over the fact that the “Golden Boy” was smiling. He shook his head in amusement and turned to Seamus, “Should I mindfuck everyone and throw a hissy fit?”

The Irish boy grinned and embraced his friend, giving him a hearty pat on the back before pulling him into a hug, “Fuck yeh, ya’ should.”

The pair of them shared a laugh and in the next instant Ron and Hermione were both practically in his lap as they tackled their friend. After six years of friendship, they were well aware they had been silently forgiven and appeared damn grateful to have the “old” Harry back.

Seamus looked over at the Slytherin table and his forehead scrunched up in evident confusion, “’Ang on, where’s Zabini?”

The three other Gryffindors turned to look and appeared just as confused by the Slytherin’s absence.

Dean chuckled and said, “I guess you lot didn’t hear?”

Harry turned to the boy, “Hear what?”

“Well, apparently, earlier this morning, Zabini woke up and found he had a few important bits missing.”

Neville interjected through his own giggling, “Not just that, he woke up as a girl!”

Dean nodded and smiled at the shocked, but highly amused looks on his friends’ faces, “Yeh, he demanded Snape send him home, and from what I heard, he left amid a group of jeering, laughing, and even groping, Slytherins.”

Hermione, Seamus, and Ron laughed enthusiastically at the boy’s very much deserved comeuppance. 

Harry smirked knowingly and searched the Slytherin table for a familiar blond head. When he found Draco, they made eye contact. Harry silently asked the boy with a quirk of his brow, ‘Was it you?’

Draco smirked and assumed a false angelic façade as he shook his head adamantly. A silent reply of, ‘I would never do such a thing!’

Harry laughed out loud and rolled his eyes. He owed Draco big time.

~

Seamus was sitting by a window in the common room, looking rather pleased with himself. Ron and Hermione came in; discussing some assumedly sickening dating ritual couples partake in.

When Ron noticed Seamus he approached the Irish boy. “Hey, mate, what’re you doing?”

He laughed, “Just ‘aving a bit of a t’ink before I go see Luna.” Seamus stood up and walked towards the portrait hole.

Hermione smiled and asked, “You two are hitting it off then?”

Seamus gave her a cheeky smile and answered, “Ya’ could say dat.”

Ron looked down and saw the omnioculars. He stared at his friend suspiciously, “What were you doing, Seamus?”

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, “Witnessing the tamin’ of a shrew.” Seamus gave his friends a cocky grin and promptly climbed out of the portrait hole.

Ron let out a sigh at the bizarre behavior of the Irish boy and walked over to the window seat. He picked up the omnioculars and turned to look through the window. He let out a gasp and dropped them. His face was pale as he approached Hermione. He grabbed the brunette’s hand and began to pull her back towards the portrait hole.

Hermione stopped him and pulled away. She stepped closer to the window and asked, “What, on earth, did you see, Ronald?”

The red head let out a sincere shudder, “You really don’t want to know.”

Hermione feigned a pout. When he still refused to say anything, she placed her hands on her hips and said in her best bossy tone, “Don’t make me walk over there to see for myself.”

Ron let out a sigh. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was going to explain what he saw to his girlfriend. As he racked his brain for the right words, a rather brilliant idea popped in his head. He had been spending far too much time with Seamus, but he could deal with the repercussions of that later. “Uh, Hermione?” Ron asked innocently.

“Yes?” She asked impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor as her hands remained on her hips. 

Ron fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet back and forth. On the outside he appeared nervous and innocent. He was secretly pleased with himself for pulling off the credulous body movements. “I’m assuming, like the dating thing, you’ll probably wait to start having sex until Harry does, yeh?”

The brunette eyed her boyfriend warily as she answered, “Well, I suppose so, but what does that have to do with anything?”

He shrugged, “Nothing really, I was just curious.”

Hermione let out a huff and moved her hands from her hips to fold them over her chest. “Are you going to tell me what you saw or not?” She demanded.

Ron shook his head and started to walk away, “Like I said, you don’t want to know.”

She narrowed her eyes and replied tersely, “If you’re going to be so cryptic, I’m going to go have a look for myself!”

Ron smirked, silently pumping his fist in the air in triumph as he watched her stomp over to the window seat and pick up the omnioculars. He smiled and replied, “If you insist…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing and then re-writing it.


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